Internal Affairs
by ThatWrestlingFanWrites
Summary: After a tragic turn of events, Officer Corey Graves has been promoted to detective in the homicide department. During a case, he grows close to the widow of the victim. As he dwells deeper into the case, Graves realizes he may be a marked man. Can Graves escape his circumstances and prove his innocence?
1. Chapter 1

"This city isn't what it used to be. The people have grown a fear to expect to walk down the driveway to fetch the mail and get jumped by some thug. I couldn't tell you where it all went wrong. A child goes missing from the schoolyard; A woman sells her body on Main Street to pay rent; A man gets gunned down in the drive thru of a goddamn Taco Bell because he took too long to order. This town, kid… This town isn't what it used to be-"

"What will it take to get you to shut the hell up for two seconds?" Officer Graves asked, growing slightly annoyed by his partner's ramblings. They were three hours into a ten hour overnight shift and most coffee shops had shut down for the evening. John Cena, Graves' partner, had spent the last half hour monologuing a fake crime show. A lack of caffeine had made Graves short with people, and since he wasn't allowed to smoke on the job he wasn't going to put up with anyone's unnecessary bullshit tonight.

"Hey, relax, man. We got a long night ahead of us. The least I could do is provide some comic relief." Cena said.

Graves rolled his eyes as he helplessly sipped at the last few drops his cup of coffee had to offer. "Fuck." He thought once the last possible ounce of strong black joe finally reached his lips. Frustratingly, he slammed the empty cup back into its cupholder.

"Hey, man, if ya really need some more coffee, we can stop at McDonald's and I can buy a few of those McCafe things." Cena offered.

Graves shook his head. "No, that's fine, John. Besides, I'll need at least fifteen to get through the night," He quickly turned his head and threw Cena a smirk. "No offense, man, but I don't think you can afford that much coffee."

"We get paid the same. Ain't they ninety-nine cents a piece?" Cena asked.

"A large is a dollar forty-nine. Times fifteen, that's twenty-two thirty five. Then you have to take tax into consideration." Graves replied.

"You don't think I have twenty-five bucks to spare for coffee?" Cena shook his head. "The hell do you think I spend all my money on?"

"Muscle milk and Slim Jims?" Graves laughed when Cena removed a Slim Jim from the backpack he kept by his feet.

"Slim Jims and vaseline." Cena laughed himself when Graves shot him a dirty look.

"Hey, that's my sister you're talking about, jackass." Graves' sister, Nicole, married Cena three years after the two joined the police academy. Saying Cena and Graves were the complete opposite of each other would be an understatement. But Nicole adored Cena, and Graves always wanted what was best for his sister. Graves chuckled. "I still don't get what she sees in you, man."

"Why do you say that?" Cena asked.

"You monologue your patrol route," Graves shook his head but smiled while Cena chuckled again. "That's weird, John."

"It's a slow night: No one's speeding. The radio has been pretty quiet except when Naomi wants us to pick her up some tacos. It's been a thousand years since we've left the academy, ya know? When will something interesting happen?" Cena complained.

"We've been out of the academy for three months, John," Graves sunk lower in his seat; He tried not to let his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, but his caffeine withdrawal was starting to get to his head. He even thought about risking a smoke break, but he knew people checked the body cams the force was required to wear, and he was not about to lose his job over some childish addiction.

Cena noticed his brother-in-law's agitated state. "Look, man, pull over and have a smoke. I won't tell anyone."

Graves tapped the center of his chest with his index finger. "Body cams, John. I'm not about to be the first guy in history to be fired from the police force for smoking."

"They don't check 'em unless you get into some shit. Just don't pull anyone over for the rest of the night and you won't have to worry."

Graves pulled onto a side road. "We gotta get gas anyway. I'll just get a cheap cup of coffee and a couple Red Bulls or something." He pulled the cruiser into a free stall. "You can pump. You want anything?"

"See if they got any peanuts," Cena requested, sliding out of the car.

Graves entered the twenty four hour gas station. He acknowledged the cashier with a head nod. It was getting late in the night, which Graves took note of by the lack of people in the store. Two others not counting the cashier, from what he saw. He took a glance outside: Cena was pumping fuel into their cruiser, but seemed to be narrating to himself again. Graves chuckled. "Cena definitely is a strange guy." He mused to himself. "Sale on dark brew, huh?" Graves read aloud the fluorescent sign with a smile. "Don't mind if I do." Graves selfishly helped himself to three cups of coffee. "This will eventually be the death of me." Graves thought with a smirk.

The bell above the door dinged. Graves didn't think anything of it, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a handgun being cocked.

"Let's go, everything in the register!" Came a loud, and rather angry, sounding voice from around the corner.

Graves quickly set his coffee down and drew his weapon. As cautiously as he could, Graves rounded the corner and aimed his weapon at the man standing by the counter. "Drop your weapon!" He shouted.

The man's hands immediately shot up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," He repeatedly muttered under his breath. "Just take it easy, man." He called over his shoulder.

"Drop your weapon! I will not tell you again!" Graves ordered.

The man complied; He slowly set the gun on the floor and kicked it away.

"On the ground." Graves instructed. He quickly approached the man when he knelt. "Did you not see the patrol car outside, smart guy?" Graves cuffed the man, then dragged him to his feet. "I'll get you to the car, then I'll read you your rights."

"Man, you have no idea what you're doing," The man warned over his shoulder. "Del Rio sent me here for some quick cash. I don't come back, heads will roll."

"Del Rio?" Graves thought. Alberto Del Rio was the most wanted drug dealer in the county. If this guy really was one of his henchmen, then Graves may have just unlocked a major clue into finding the dealer's whereabouts. Then again, it could just be a scare tactic into getting him to release the petty criminal. "Nice try, kid," Graves said aloud. "This isn't Del Rio's turf; He wouldn't be caught dead this side of Stamford."

Cena met Graves halfway across the parking lot; Cena informed Graves he was going to secure the store before they took off for the station. Graves pulled open the rear passenger side door and shoved the would be thief into the car.

"You have the right to remain silent," Graves read off the criminal's rights, then slammed the door in his face. Just as he was wrapping up, Officer Cena reemerged from inside the gas station. "Everything clear?" Graves asked.

Cena nodded his head. "All good. Cashier's a bit shaken up, but she'll be fine. Two customers were inside during the robbery. One of them, some older woman, made me promise to give you her thanks."

Graves chuckled. "That's what happens when you need a coffee: You bust a crook before he even has time to rob the place."

Cena nodded his head and continued on like he hadn't heard what Graves had said. "The other guy, I don't think he spoke any English. He was on his cellphone, talking fast to whoever the hell he was speaking to. I tried to get him to tell me if he was ok, but he kept backing away from me whenever I got close."

"Poor guy's probably shook up," Graves figured. "Saw the gun, adrenaline starts to kick in, then his nerves catch up to him when he calms down. Happens all the time."

Both officers started back for their patrol car, but the sound of tires squealing made them halt their movements and turn back around. Then three things happened all at once: The man Cena had been talking about came running out of the store waving a gun in the air; The man Graves had arrested started screaming excitedly in Spanish; And the side door of the van slid open to spill out a few armed men.

"Gun!" Graves yelled as he retrieved his gun from its holster and fired a single shot at the man running from the store. The bullet struck the man square in the chest and knocked him off his feet.

Cena and Graves, in midst of rapid gunfire, took cover behind their patrol car. Cena drew his weapon and fired a few blind shots over the front hood. Graves snuck around the side and peaked his head from behind the trunk. Narrowly dodging a bullet as it ricocheted off the taillight, Graves took cover again.

"Graves!" Cena called. "Cover me! I'm calling this in!"

Taking risk, Graves popped out of cover and fired three shots in the van's direction. He ducked behind his cruiser again before he himself would be hit, but he did hear someone yell out in pain before being followed by a soft thud on the pavement. Graves risked himself again and attempted a peek through the windows of the patrol car. At least three of the visible five shooters were dead. As another bullet zipped by his head, Graves noticed the back windows had been shot out and the man he had arrested before had been absolutely shredded with bullets. Having no time to mourn, not that he gave a damn anyway, Graves returned to Cena's side.

"Backup's on its way," Cena informed before firing another shot over the hood of the car.

"I'm going for the shotgun," Graves told.

Cena insisted that it was a suicide run for Graves to try that, but he needed the extra support just in case there were more shooters on their way. Graves waited for a moment when the gunfire ceased long enough to give him the opportunity to open the trunk and retrieve the pump action shotgun kept locked up in case of the worst case scenario. A bullet pinged off the back door; A moment of silence followed. This was his chance. Graves unlocked the trunk, threw the hood open then blindly reached for the firearm tucked inside. Graves loaded five shells into the gun, then popped up to get a grasp of the chaotic situation. Directly in front of the patrol car, one of the shooters had managed to sneak up behind Cena. Both Graves and the shooter fired at the same time. The shooter took most of the blast to the side of his face and spun around before face planting on the blacktop.

"I'm hit!" Cena screamed.

Graves ducked another flurry of bullets. He quickly made his way to Cena while keeping himself in cover. "Where are you hit?" Graves asked.

Cena had his right arm pushed tightly against his left shoulder. "Mother fucker snuck up on us! I didn't see him in time."

Graves applied more pressure to Cena's shoulder to help stop the bleeding. "Oh, about fucking time!" The sounds of sirens could be heard fastly approaching the store. "Stay alive, John! Nikki will never let me hear the end of it if you die tonight!" Graves couldn't help but laugh when Cena gave him the finger with his injured arm.

The approaching sirens became deafening as another police car barreled into the parking lot. There was some indistinct shouting followed by a few gunshots. Graves remained behind cover with Cena, praying to a deity he didn't believe in that they would make it out of this alive. Gradually, the thunderous sounds of bullets landing all around his area ceased. Graves held his breath, fully expecting the worst to happen.

"You boys alright?" Graves recognized the sound of Officer Ziggler's voice instantly. Rounding the car Officer Dolph Ziggler and his partner, Officer Dana Brooke, quickly joined Graves near Cena.

"Jesus, took you long enough." Graves scolded, but chuckled in relief to show he was more appreciative than he let on.

Officer Brooke helped Cena to his feet, while helping him keep pressure on his shoulder wound.

"Get him to our car and wait for the ambulance there." Ziggler instructed his partner; Brooke nodded her head and slowly began leading Cena to her cruiser. "The hell happened here?" Ziggler asked Graves, taking note of the carnage around the area.

"It started with a failed armed robbery. I was getting a coffee and my friend," He turned and gestured to the mangled body in the backseat of his ruined cruiser. "Decided to try and rob the place. I arrest him. Next thing I know, we're pinned behind our car and Cena's hit."

"You think this has anything to do with Del Rio?" Ziggler asked. "His gang's been poking around here a lot lately."

Graves shrugged. "It seems possible, but I wouldn't guarantee that's what's going on. Cena said that guy," Graves nodded his head at the dead gunman by the entrance of the gas station. "Was calling someone on the phone before everything went to shit. So I assume he called it in."

Ziggler began to respond, but Graves saw a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. A single gunshot went off before Graves realised there was still one last shooter alive. Near the front of the van, the last shooter fired off a few more shots. Graves drew his handgun and fired several times in his direction. The first bullet hit the shooter directly in the left eye, killing him instantly, with the others striking various spots on his torso. Graves and Ziggler took one more quick assessment of the area to absolutely make sure it was clear.

"Officer down!" Called Officer Brooke from her patrol car.

Graves' chest immediately deflated. His vision became blurry as he sprinted in the direction of Brooke and Cena. Kneeling on the pavement, Brooke still had her hand over Cena's shoulder. Officer Cena was lying motionless on the pavement in front of her, with a fresh wound in the center of his chest. His eyes were closed. There was no doubting he was dead.

"No…" Graves croaked, tears stinging his eyes. He fell to his knees beside Brooke. Maybe this was a dream. Perhaps in the odd chance he was asleep, he would wake up in his bed right now and have a laugh with Cena over this the next morning. As the late summer breeze surrounded him, and the sound of ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance, Graves understood that he wasn't experiencing a dream.

* * *

Some three or so hours later, Graves found himself in Captain Helmsley's office. Usually after a shooting or some other violent altercation with a suspect, he would have to deal with internal affairs before going home. He did speak to them, but Helmsley wanted to talk to him before he took off.

The two sat in silence for a few moments. Graves blankly stared at his hands; They were still shaking and smelled like sulfur. The lights on the ceiling were blinding him, making Corey squint against them whenever he tried to pick his head up. And the ringing… The damned ringing in his ears wouldn't stop.

"Corey," Helmsley began as gently as he could in his otherwise loud and intimidating voice. "I can't begin to imagine what you're going through now…"

"No, you can't." Graves replied emotionlessly, taking his gaze from his hands and making eye contact with Helmsley. "My brother-in-law was shot in cold blood by a gang of dope slinging Mexicans. He died in the parking lot of a fucking Quick Stop!" Graves' voice began raising quickly, but he promptly regained his composure and lowered his tone.

Helmsley sighed. "John's wife… Nicole…"

"Don't you dare send an officer to her door to tell her her husband is dead," Graves' voice was calm but his icy stare told otherwise. "I'll tell her. I'm her brother," He swallowed hard to remove the lump in the back of his throat, but it wouldn't budge. Nikki would be absolutely devastated when she learned John's fate. Right now, she was probably sound asleep, fully expecting her husband to be there when she woke up. Graves concluded. "John was my brother. I can tell her."

Helmsley nodded his head. "Good. Again, I can't tell you how sorry I am about John's death. He was a good man. But, we need to talk business now. Those men you took down… They were all Del Rio's thugs. That last man you shot, the one in front of the van, was Alberto Del Rio himself. You and John took down the most wanted man in Fairfield County after one of his goons got busted trying to rob a gas station. You're heroes, Graves. John is a hero."

Hero. That was the last thing Graves considered himself. Would a hero beat all the bad guys and let his loved ones die? There sure as shit was never a comic book like that that Corey remembered reading. A hero sacrifices his own life for others. Cena was the hero. Graves was just lucky.

"...which is why I'm transferring you to homicide." Graves heard Helmsley say after coming back to reality.

Graves let his eyebrows raise slightly in question. "Why would you do that?"

"You put an end to a drug ring, disabled its leader, and saved the lives of so many people." Helmsley praised. "I can't put your name in the paper for your own safety, but a promotion should be enough thanks for what you did tonight."

Graves nodded his head. "Right. And all John gets is a dirt nap and a bullet to the chest." Not wanting to hear anymore, Graves stood from his seat and left the office.

* * *

Nikki Bella-Cena was awaken at three fifteen in the morning by strong, rhythmic knocking at her front door. She rolled her eyes as she threw her bathrobe over her partially exposed body. John probably got off his patrol early, had a few beers with Corey, then got so drunk he forgot how to use his keys again. Intoxicated or not, she was just happy he got home safe everyday after work. She couldn't remember how many times she begged and pleaded John to transfer to a safer city so they could finally start a family, and John wouldn't be in the constant danger he was with the scum that usually occupied the streets of Stamford. She giggled quietly to herself while sliding her hands over her midsection. Seven months, two weeks from now she and John would be parents. As she passed by the nursery, Nikki groaned in frustration when she saw John hadn't finished constructing the crib he promised to put together before he went to work tonight.

"That man," Nikki muttered with a shake of her head. Gradually, she made her way to the foyer and peaked through the curtain of the window next to the front door. "Oh," It wasn't John. It was her step-brother, Corey. "Hey, Corey," Nikki greeted her older brother with a cheery smile. She took a quick survey of her front porch. "Where's John?"

Corey opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat before he had a chance to.

"Seriously, Corey, where's John?" Nikki's smile quickly faded. If this was some kind of drunken joke, she wasn't finding it funny in the least.

Corey remained silent. In the faint light of the bulb hanging above the front door, Nikki could see tears trailing down his cheeks.

"Corey…" Nikki asked again. "Where's John?" Her brother's odd behavior was starting to worry her.

"Nikki…" Corey tried to speak but he couldn't form the words correctly. He tried to speak again, but he burst into tears the second he tried to force himself to talk.

Nikki's heart sank to her feet. "No…" She covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes immediately watered and spilled over her cheeks. "No, please, Corey, no." Nikki stepped out onto her front porch, allowing Corey to wrap his arms around her and bring her close to his person.


	2. Chapter 2

**ONE YEAR LATER**

Graves shot up in bed, covered in cold sweat. He realized it was just a dream again and inhaled deeply. Ever since that night… That goddamned night over a year ago, he was unable to sleep an entire evening without being plagued by nightmares.

Graves sighed heavily. "Jesus Christ, Graves, get ahold of yourself." The memory of his brother-in-law dying was not going to leave his mind anytime soon. His lack of sleep and composure began affecting his abilities at work. He was forced to see a counselor now at least twice a week. Graves hated that most of all; Having to sit in a room with another person and talk about how the death of his brother-in-law made him feel. Everyone should know how Corey feels. It was common sense that he wasn't alright! He watched his brother die. Corey didn't care at all that he shot and killed at least four people that night. That was just part of the job. It was more of the fact that he left a loved one to die in the streets, when he should've been at home with his wife. Nikki wasn't very open about her feelings, but Graves knew she was never going to fully recover from losing John. She never said it to him personally, but Graves always felt like she blamed him for John's death. Corey blamed himself, so why shouldn't she blame him?

Nikki's voice broke Graves' thought process. "Corey? Can you come help me for a sec?"

Corey sighed again. He slid out of bed, threw on a pair of shorts and a crumpled t-shirt, then made his way into the hall. Following the sounds of quiet humming, Corey entered Nikki's bedroom. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, cradling her small son in her arms and singing to him softly. Five months ago, Nikki gave birth to a healthy baby boy that she named JJ Cena. JJ was of course short for John Jr after his father.

"What'd you need, Nick?" Corey asked quietly, not wanting to wake JJ.

Nikki nodded her head at the dresser across the room. "I need to give him a bath, but this is the first time he's been sleeping in two days. Can you grab him some clothes and his washcloth?"

Corey did as instructed. He laid the fresh clothing beside Nikki. "Anything else you need before I head out?" He asked softly.

"What time does cable get here? It's been at least a month since I've been on Instagram, and I need the internet."

Corey shook his head and chuckled. "Before four, they said. I'll be home around six or so."

"Ok, please stay safe. If you get into any danger, just run. There's no shame in protecting yourself." Nikki said.

"I know, sis, don't worry. I won't try anything stupid." Corey left Nikki's bedroom and returned to his own.

Just after JJ was born, Corey and Nikki moved to Trumbull to get away from the terrible memories that Stamford left them. Graves was still a homicide detective in Stamford, but he knew moving to a new town was what was best for Nikki and JJ. The half an hour commute every morning was a hassle sometimes, but it was worth it. The new neighborhood was a lot more family orientated than Nikki's old one was; She found a daycare for JJ within walking distance of her new house. Everything was improving at a steady pace, though it was still hard at some times.

After a quick shower, Graves dressed in his new work attire which consisted of black dress pants, black shoes, and a button down collared shirt. He was thankful he didn't have to wear the police uniform anymore after his promotion. On top of a looser dress code, Graves didn't have to be in his office at a specific time; He just needed to be there at an hour that would give him enough time to complete any work he had for the day.

Graves said goodbye to JJ and Nikki one more time and left the house.

"About time you're ready," Called a tall blonde female standing beside Graves' '67 Chevy Impala. "Why haven't you answered any of my calls?"

"I shut the ringer off," Graves replied slyly. "It kept ringing for some reason."

The woman nodded sarcastically, giving Graves the finger. "Glad no one was dying or anything or we'd be in a world of shit."

Graves smirked. "No, we get there after people die. That's our job, Charlotte."

Charlotte Flair was appointed Graves' partner after he joined homicide. She had been on her own since she herself joined but had been looking for a suitable contender for her partner spot. When she heard about Graves' case and his promotion to homicide, she knew she found a solid partner that would watch her back when they were out in the field.

Charlotte handed Graves a cup of coffee once they got inside the car.

"Thanks," Graves said, taking a long drink from his coffee. "We don't have to carpool. I don't want to make you wait for me."

Charlotte shook her head. "It's no issue; I live right next door. Besides, my loving fiance took my car this morning and hasn't been back since."

"How is she, by the way? Bayley, right?" Graves asked, starting up his car and backing out of the driveway.

Charlotte nodded her head. "She's fine. Well, about as fine as a thirty year old woman with an irrational fear of clowns, spiders, and the dark can be anyway."

"You guys fighting or something?" Graves questioned.

"No, she just forgets to tell me when she's going grocery shopping sometimes so I get irritated when my car isn't here." Charlotte explained.

Graves shrugged his shoulders. "Fair enough. Anything exciting happened yet?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Not since we closed the Poffo case. Everything's been unnaturally peaceful this week."

Graves rolled his eyes. "Great, then it's only a matter of time then."

* * *

Somewhere in the Stamford city limits, homicide detective Dean Ambrose woke up to the sound of a car alarm going off. Head pounding from a long, late night of drinking, Ambrose was very certain his head was about to split down the middle.

"Fuck me," Ambrose muttered to himself; The light seeping through the curtains was not helping his hangover in the least. Finally, the obnoxious beeping stopped all together. Ambrose unhurriedly sat up on his side of the bed. Dean, despite being partially blind from the bright natural light from outside, couldn't help but marvel at the red head lying beside him. "Goddamn." He muttered again, admiring the curves and exquisite features the young woman had. This was maybe the fifthteenth or sixthteenth time they hooked up, but she was still a thing from fantasy to look at. Dean's senses erupted again, this time because of his ringing phone. He quickly answered just to get it to stop. "Yeah? I'm on my way in now…. No, I'm not home… Is the guy not dead anymore? Then I guess he can wait a few more minutes." Ambrose angrily hung up the phone. Why did office people have to berate him about the rate he did his paperwork? It was going to get done… Eventually. He just worked at a slower pace than others did.

Reluctantly, Ambrose slid into an old pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and his favorite leather jacket. He admired the sleeping beauty on his bed one more time, smirked to himself, then left his apartment.

Ambrose thought being a cop was alright. It had some useful perks here and there; Like when he needed to cut in line at the liquor store. Being the kind of cop he was meant a lot of people didn't trust him to do a job correctly, but his reputation showed that he always got a job done. Several other detectives accused him of excessive harm or an overeagerness to draw his weapon, but Captain Reigns, the head of homicide, had no reason to complain since Ambrose always followed through. Instead of intuition and evidence, Ambrose always went with his gut feeling. So far, that hadn't been wrong. He arrested an eighteen year old girl, because he had a "gut feeling that she was the one that killed her English teacher." Three hours of solitude in an interview room finally made her crack. The idea of forcing a criminal into a state of paranoia under their own guilt was also Ambrose's idea. And, again, that method was fool proof so far. When accused of forcing innocent people to confess, Ambrose nonchalantly replies, "if they ain't guilty, what do they have to worry about?"

Dean's car was the newest model of Ford Mustangs. Just how he could afford such a nice car was often left to the speculation of his coworkers, as he was never open about his source of extra income.

Ambrose swiftly parked in his usual spot outside the Stamford police station. He only came by when it was absolutely necessary. Like when he needed to finish paperwork or had to meet with internal affairs. Dean loved visiting internal affairs for two reasons. One, because he knew he could talk himself out of any situation. And two, because he loved getting under the skin of Stephanie McMahon. For whatever reason, she had made it her personal mission to have Ambrose thrown in prison for a sizeable portion of his life. Admittedly, Ambrose wasn't a saint. But he never got a complaint from his captain about how many cases he solved in his time. So, in theory, he couldn't give a damn what Stephanie had to say.

"Roddy," Dean greeted the officer seated in the front lobby with a grin. "How's life treatin' ya?"

Roddy Piper was a retired police officer that now ran night security and reception during the day. "Well, the wife's been on my case about nothin', as usual," Roddy said with a shoulder shrug. "Other than that, not a whole heck of a lot. How about you? I hear ya headed to meet with internal affairs again today."

Dean threw his arms up at his side. "Yeah, but, what're you gonna do? I gotta finish some paperwork too. If I had a partner, I could make them do it."

"If you had a partner you'd be in jail." Piper added.

Ambrose and Piper sat in silence for a minute, staring at each other with stern, non-humorous expressions, but both men started laughing soon after. Dean slapped Roddy on the back then made his way to the elevator, where he would need to go to the third floor to meet with internal affairs.

* * *

"Detective Ambrose for internal affairs." The receptionist nodded her head and smiled at the detective; She picked up her phone and repeated Dean's words. She hung up shortly after and gestured at the door to his right. "Thanks, doll." Dean took the receptionist's direction, though he was fully aware where the office was.

Ambrose's smile hadn't faded since he stepped off the elevator. He knew what he was going into, and he knew how he was going to walk out. He's going to saunter into Stephanie's office, be greeted by her glare and tight lipped frown as he was always was, and then sit there while she scolded him for whatever misconduct report that was filed against him. Then, as always, she wouldn't have enough proof to charge him with anything. He would thank her with a sarcastic tone and shit eating grin, then walk away from her office with a swagger only a spoiled toddler could have.

He was unprepared for what waited for him today. Instead of the angered stare of Stephanie McMahon waiting for him, Ambrose found a softer one. The woman sitting behind the desk was definitely not Stephanie McMahon. This girl was at least twenty years younger, shorter, had blonde hair with redish pink streaks pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her striking ocean blue eyes flickered from the pile of paper in front of her to lock with his when her door closed.

"Detective?" The woman asked. Her voice was soft and sweet; The complete opposite of Stephanie's.

Ambrose found himself at a loss for words for the moment. This woman's unexpected attractiveness caught him off guard and had actually managed to make him a bit tongue tied. "Uh," He finally managed to utter after summoning up all his strength. "I'm here to see Stephanie McMahon?"

The woman smiled. "Stephanie was transferred to Greenwich," She rose from her chair and rounded her desk; Ambrose was shocked to see the woman's true height, which couldn't have been more than five feet. She wore a smart black business suit with a white undershirt, with the skirt hanging just below mid thigh. She held out her right hand. "Alexa Bliss. I'm in charge of internal affairs now."

The woman's hand was soft and easily fit in Dean's. He squeezed gently then shook just as delicately.

"Now," Alexa began, returning to her desk; Dean took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, admiring the shape of Alexa's well defined ass. "I'm sure you're probably wondering why you're here, detective?"

"Call me, Dean." Dean suggested.

Alexa slowly shook her head. "I prefer to keep things formal, detective."

"As you wish, Bliss." Dean said.

"Miss Bliss." Alexa corrected.

"Bless you." Dean said.

Alexa sighed. "So, anyway, I've read your file and I'm a bit shocked at how often you were written up and sent here."

Dean snickered. "Well, seems like it was for just about anything when Steph was here. I swear the woman had a crush on me or wanted me thrown in jail."

Alexa smiled slightly and giggled under her breath; Dean felt a rush of heat wash over his body at the sight of it. "Well, I do things differently than she does. I won't chase you down and badger you over a slight infraction. I only care about the possibility of a law breaking officer using his power to do what he wants. Have you ever used your power as a policeman to get special treatment?"

Dean pondered the question for a moment. "On purpose? No. I cut in line at restaurants but I did that before I was a cop. Other than that, nothing special comes my way unless someone gives it to me."

Alexa smirked. "Sounds like maybe Stephanie was a little harsh on you after all."

Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah, I guess so. Is that why you needed me here?"

"No, actually, I had a question about…" Alexa stood up from her seat, searching for a piece of paper. She leaned forward, sifting through the pages on her desk; Dean had a perfect line of view down the women's shirt. He quickly crossed his legs to hide his excitement from the woman, knowing that would get him in trouble more than whatever allegation she had on him now. "There it is," Alexa announced. "Why was your badge left at your desk last week?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "That's it? Uh, I went home early because I got food poisoning from La Parka's. I knew that if I left it here, I would remember I forgot it here and would have to come back and get it. While doing that, I would remember I have a shit load of paperwork to finish."

Alexa slowly nodded her head. "So it was a way to remind you to do your paperwork? That's actually very smart. I do something similar, just with post-it notes." Alexa took one last look at the paperwork before her. "Other than that, I don't have anything for you, detective. Just don't actually forget where you place your badge. If it gets lost or stolen, you could be in serious trouble."

"Don't worry, ma'am, it's right…" Dean slapped his jeans pocket, expecting to feel his badge. He didn't. In a moment of panic, Dean remembered he left it on his desk. "...On my desk. Because of all the paperwork I have to fill out."

Alexa flashed Dean another friendly smile. "Good to know, detective. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Are you single?" He blurted out without thinking.

Alexa chuckled. "That would be very inappropriate for us to date, detective. Besides, I don't date cops."

Dean raised his hands in a defensive manner. "It was a simple question, your honor, no harm no foul. Just making conversation."

As Dean stepped onto the elevator, he felt himself relax and exhale heavily. This new girl was extremely attractive, that was for sure. Her smile was hypnotising, and her giggle gave him goosebumps. And her suit… The way it hugged her ass and emphasised all her important features was just too good to be true. Feeling himself getting worked up again, Dean chuckled and shook his head. Instead of pressing the button for the ground floor, Dean pushed the button for the basement.

* * *

The basement of this police station was used for file storing and had seven holding cells, but it was mainly used by the forensics team. Two labs were set up below the streets of Stamford; Each lab had a scientist in it at all times to prevent possible DNA tampering or contamination.

Detective Ambrose peaked his head inside one of the labs. He smiled to himself when he recognized a head of fiery orange-red hair. He quickly slipped inside, quietly closed the door, then tiptoed up to the woman.

"Whatcha workin' on?" Dean asked, making the woman yell in surprise and almost fall off of her stool.

The woman began scolding Dean in her native Gaelic language when he started laughing at her. "Yer not funny, Ambrose. I coulda spilled this shite all over meself and made a damn mess." Shr growled at him in an annoyed tone, but kept the smallest smile on her face.

"Jeez, sorry, Becky, I didn't know you were such a klutz." Dean teased.

Becky rolled her eyes. "Whatever, arsehole. Why are ya down here anyway? I thought McMahon banned you from comin' down here."

"Apparently she's been replaced by this blonde chick. I don't know where she's from, but I can tell I'm going to be a pain in the ass for her." Dean said.

Becky sighed, shaking her head at Dean's childish antics. "So, what'd ya need?"

Dean perched himself on an unoccupied stool. "I came down here to ask you to dinner. I figured it's been awhile since our last proper date. So I figured…" He shrugged his shoulders.

"Date? Yer ma boyfriend now? Since when?" Becky asked.

"Well, I figured fuck buddies have to share a meal together at some point. Typically I do all the eating but you have to at some point too, right?" Dean smirked after Becky rolled her eyes again and playfully flipped him off.

"I'll consider it, ok? Just have to see how long it's gonna take me to organize everthin'." Becky explained.

Dean slid off his stool and shuffled behind Becky. He leaned over her shoulder to get a better look at what she was working on. Getting bored instantly, Ambrose snaked his arms around Becky's torso, brushed some hair away from her neck, then planted a few soft kisses just below her ear.

Becky giggled breathlessly. "No, lad, I can't here," She explained. "I can't get ma DNA mixed with theirs or we'll both get thrown in jail." She nearly jumped out of her seat when Dean's calloused left hand slid inside her lab coat and under her skirt. "If I agree ta dinner, will you stop?" She groaned.

Dean immediately released Becky and took a few steps away from her. "Yes I will. Pick you up at like… Eight?"

Becky nodded her head. "Sounds like a date."

Dean gave her a toothy grin and dismissed himself from the lab. As Dean got on the elevator for the third time that day, he rolled his eyes and hit the button for the second floor. Since he was here, he might as well get a start on the paperwork that was due.


	3. Chapter 3

Graves and Flair didn't have a lot of work left to do. Graves just needed to sign his name on a few things and Flair needed to touch up on her report. That would've gotten done and over with in a matter of no longer than an hour, but Charlotte was constantly distracted by phone calls from her fiance every few minutes.

Finishing his last signature, Graves turned his focus to his partner. Charlotte had her phone pressed against the side of her head and her shoulder while her fingers swiftly typed at her computer's keyboard. Graves could guess, by the look on her face, Charlotte was on the verge of losing her cool. But every time before she hung up, Charlotte would smile and laugh under her breath. Then, like clockwork, her phone would ring again a few minutes later and she'd have that same sour look on her face when she answered.

Graves lifted himself from behind his desk. He sauntered over to Charlotte's to see her progress on her report. Much to his annoyance, she was barely half way done.

Graves cleared his throat, getting Charlotte to turn in her chair. "What?" She silently mouthed.

Graves tapped the back of his wrist, silently telling Charlotte she was taking too long.

Charlotte rolled her eyes and lifted her index finger. "Yeah," She said into her phone. "I know, hun… Listen, I gotta get goin', ok? Yes, babe, I'll make us mac and cheese for dinner," Charlotte threw Graves a dirty look when he snickered. Charlotte flipped him off and continued. "I love you too, Bay. Yes. I know. I can't wait for you to be Mrs Flair either. Ok, bye, babe." Charlotte pointed a stern index finger at Graves with an expression to match it. "Not one word, Graves. Understand?"

Graves refrained from laughing again but kept a smirk on his face. "No, sure, no problem. Just wondering though: Was that your fiance or five year old daughter?"

Charlotte threw a pencil at Graves, only making him laugh again. "I get it, ha ha," Charlotte said sarcastically. "My fiance isn't as mature as other people. Let's make fun of her for it."

"Well, when you put it that way I sound like a dick." Graves said.

Charlotte smirked as she turned back to her computer. "Cuz you are a dick, Graves."

"Hey, I don't mean to sound like a dick. It's cute that Bayley's like that. She sounds like a sweet girl." Graves said. "Nikki is saying all the time how we should have you two over for dinner sometime. She's a pretty decent cook and she's looking for new people to brag about her cooking skill to."

Charlotte seemed to process the thought for a moment before nodding her head. "I'll talk to Bayley about it. She'll more than likely say yes, so I guess whenever you guys want us."

"Tonight, if you want. Nikki doesn't leave the house a lot and Brie only visits on the weekends, so she'd appreciate the company. Makes a pretty good lasagna."

Charlotte nodded her head. "Cool. Sounds like a date."

Across the room, sitting at his own desk, Detective Ambrose had fallen asleep on top of his stack of paperwork. Captain Reigns, head of homicide, marched out of his office with a fresh folder of paperwork in his hands.

"That ours, Captain?" Graves asked Reigns.

Reigns shook his head. "No. More for Ambrose. Follow up for his visit to Internal Affairs this morning."

Graves held out his hand. "May I?"

Reigns shrugged his shoulders and handed the folder to Graves. Graves walked over to Ambrose's desk, raised the folder over his head, then let it go and let it slam next to Ambrose's head.

"What the fuck?" Ambrose demanded, sitting up lightning quick. He was greeted by the laughing faces of Graves, Flair, and Reigns. "Ha ha," Dean sarcastically laughed. "Real fuckin' good, guys. I remember when I had my first beer."

Graves snickered. "Was that the third or fourth year you were in sixth grade?"

Ambrose rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Bitch, I bet any amount of money you want I made better grades in sixth grade than you did."

"Probably cuz you were sixteen in a class of eleven year olds." Graves said back sarcastically.

Reigns tapped the new folder of papers on Ambrose's desk. "Follow up on IA," Reigns said. "I gotta tell ya, Dean, I'm getting pretty sick of having to hand you these papers."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Yeah? And I'm getting pretty sick of having to go up there," He smirked and chuckled. "Actually, now that that new girl is there, I might be fine with my weekly visits."

"Don't even think about it, Ambrose," Reigns warned amusingly. "The last thing I need is a PR nightmare right after the Kennedy case. Plus, the boys upstairs say she's engaged, so it's not like you had a shot anyway."

Ambrose slumped in his chair and dropped his head back. When Reigns went back into his office, Dean sat back up and smirked at Graves. "Dude, I'm serious," Ambrose said with a broad smile. "This chick is smoking hot. Short, blonde hair, tight little ass, great pair of tits. I fucking almost wish I wasn't a cop just so I'd have a chance at her."

Graves was used to Ambrose's obscene personality at this point. It surprised him when they first met each other, but as time went on it became a frequent expectation to hear Ambrose speak in an unorthodox way. "Right, and her having a fiance wouldn't hurt your chances?" Graves asked with a smart ass smirk.

Ambrose shrugged. "I wouldn't think so. Brooke had a boyfriend and I still got to see her naked."

"You're somethin' else, Ambrose. What does Becky think when she hears you talking like this?" Graves asked.

"Why would Becky care about how many chicks I've hooked up with?" Ambrose wondered.

"You two are dating, right? Or are you still just sleeping with each other?" Graves asked.

Dean shook his head. "You know I don't do relationships, man. I made it very clear to her from the get go that this is strictly a fuck buddy situation. I may take her to dinner a few times but that's just to get her to loosen up faster. She knows it's a physical relationship."

Graves figured Ambrose would say something like that. "Well, you better tell her again. Rollins' is sayin' she's been happy all morning ever since you stopped in and asked her to dinner. She never smiles unless you're around and she never talks to anyone except you. That sounds like a relationship to me."

Dean had enough hearing about his relationships with coworkers. He stood up from his desk, threw his jacket on, then headed for the door.

"You're not gonna finish your work?" Graves called after him.

"Who cares?" Ambrose shot back as he stormed through the office door.

"Quite the charmer, aren't you, Graves?" Charlotte mocked lightly.

Graves shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "I am. Hurry up and get your report done so I can get some lunch."

Fair replied with a middle finger over her shoulder, prompting a chuckle from her partner.

* * *

Later that night, Graves was helping Nikki set the table for dinner with Charlotte and Bayley. JJ was sitting on the living room floor playing with a set of blocks. Graves finished setting the silverware down, then walked back into the kitchen to help Nikki with whatever she needed assisting on.

"Need help with anything, Nick?" Graves asked his preoccupied sister.

Nikki shook her head. "No, lasagna's still cooking and I'm almost done with the salad. If you wanna get JJ his bottle that'd be great."

Corey fetched a clean bottle from the dishwasher as well as the formula kept above the fridge. JJ, looking up at his uncle when he entered the living room, giggled excitedly with his hands stretched out in front of him.

"Hey, buddy," Corey knelt in front of JJ and handed over his bottle. "I bet you're hungry."

"Ba ba ba," JJ babbled, taking the bottle from Corey.

The doorbell rang. Corey got off the floor and hurried to the door. "Hey, come on in," Graves stepped aside to allow the the two women to enter his home. "Lasagna's almost done. Feel free to make yourselves at home."

Charlotte greeted her partner with a tight lipped smile and a bottle of red wine. "Graves," She said, gesturing at the shorter brunette woman to her right. "This is my fiance, Bayley," She turned to her fiance. "Bayley, this is my partner, Corey Graves."

Graves grinned at the woman. She was an attractive woman; Brunette hair, dark eyes, athletic build. But her sideways ponytail on the top of her head made her stand out. "Corey's fine," He stuck out his hand to shake, but Bayley surprisingly threw her arms around his torso and gave him a lung bursting hug.

"Bayley's a hugger." Charlotte informed the obvious.

Bayley ceased her embrace on Graves. "Yes, I am," She announced gleefully. "Thank you so much for inviting us over. I've been wanting to meet you ever since you started working with Charlotte."

Graves said. "Same here. Charlotte goes on and on about you when we're at the station."

Bayley's face seemed to light up at the news. "Really?" She turned towards her fiance. "You talk about me all the time at work? That's so sweet of you, babe." The energetic woman lifted herself on her toes and softly pecked Charlotte's cheek; Charlotte began blushing and smiling but turned away to try and hide it.

Corey led the two women into the dining room. "I hope you guys like lasagna. It's Nikki's special recipe."

Like she was waiting for that particular cue, Nikki shuffled into the room with a steaming glass pan held out in front of herself. "Oh, right on time, I see." Nikki said, smiling at her guests while trying to safely set the pan down on the table. "Hope you enjoy it. It's a secret recipe my gramma came up with," Successful in her transfer of the dinner, Nikki rounded the table. "You must be Charlotte," Nikki shook hands with the tall blonde. "You're the one that keeps my brother out of trouble."

Charlotte chuckled. "As a matter of fact, that's true some times. Especially when he gets cranky if he doesn't get his morning coffee."

Both girls shared a laugh in Graves' expense while the man shook his head.

Nikki turned to the other woman she hadn't met yet. "Then you're Bayley-"

Like she had with Corey, Bayley wrapped her arms around tightly around Nikki and squeezed.

"Oh, you're friendly," Nikki chuckled. "Nice to meet the two of you."

The four adults took their seats around the table. Nikki handed out sizeable portions of pasta, garlic bread, and salad to everyone. Everyone ate in silence for the first few moments, just enjoying the food and the company.

"So, Bayley," Nikki said, finally breaking the silence. "What do you do? I know Charlotte's a cop."

Bayley chuckled nervously and dropped her head. "Uh… I don't have a job. Charlotte told me I didn't need to after I quit from the department store I worked at to move out here with her. She tells me she makes more than enough to support the two of us… So I go grocery shopping, clean the house, and play video games all day." The group shared a laugh. Bayley continued. "I hope to start having babies soon. I've been looking for donors all over the place, but so far none of them are very good."

"A lot of weirdos?" Nikki asked.

Bayley nodded her head. "Yes. It's been harder than I think it has to be."

Dinner went well with the four adults. Afterwards, Charlotte was helping Nikki clear the table while Corey and Bayley were in the living room playing with JJ.

"The food was great, Nicole," Charlotte told her partner's sister. "I appreciate you having me and Bayley over."

Nikki smiled. "It was my pleasure, Charlotte. I'm glad you liked the food."

Charlotte took a moment to check over her shoulder to see if it was just the two of them. "I don't mean to cross any lines, but Corey told me about John. I'm sorry for your loss. I lost my brother in a car accident when I was sixteen."

Nikki nodded her head, appreciating the gesture. "Thank you, really. It's been hard most nights, but I think JJ and I will be ok."

"Of course," Charlotte said. "If you need anything, Bayley and I are right next door. She's home all day and she loves kids. She calls me all day about how bored she is. So, if you need a break, Bayley can watch JJ for a bit."

"Well, I do need a break every once in awhile…" Nikki shrugged. "Yeah, what the hell, I'll let you guys know."

"Good, she'll be so excited." Charlotte said.

* * *

Ambrose himself was seated at the edge of his bed. Becky was in the process of redressing herself after another hook up with the detective. Dean, in the time before and after thought about what he talked to Graves about. Surely Becky knew this was nothing more than a casual thing, right? The dinner was just a nice gesture for agreeing to a "friends with benefits" situation. Plus, he was hungry after work, and wanted to meet up with Becky, so it was basically killing two birds with one stone.

Dean felt the bed shift around him, then a muscular pair of arms snake around his torso. Becky kiss the nape of his neck, pinching his ear lobe between her teeth. Dean smirked. "I take it you had a good time tonight?" He asked, meeting the gaze of the attractive red head and giving her a quick kiss.

"Aye," Becky replied. "Thank you for that."

Dean's focus was broken by the soft lips of the Irishwoman. He'd been meaning to verify that she knew this was nothing more than a casual thing. Maybe she knew the question was coming and used her seductive ways to throw off his thought process. Dean appreciated what she did for him when they got off work, but he was worried she was catching feelings she had no reason to.

Dean broke away from the kiss. "Hey, you do know I like spending time with you, right?"

Becky grinned and nodded her head.

"And, like, the sex is great. I just wanted to clarify that." Dean chuckled; Becky giggled under her breath at his words. Dean continued. "But, like I said, this is only a physical thing. I don't want to date anyone, but you're ok with that?"

Becky's expression seemed to harden, but it quickly relaxed soon after. "Yeah, I know. I don't want a boyfriend now, and I can be yer fuck buddy fer now."

"Fer now?" Dean mimicked Becky's accent with a sideways grin. "What the hell do you mean, 'fer now'?"

Becky smirked. "Well, I was just supposed to be a hookup when yer was gettin' divorced. Now here we are almost a year later."

A night of drinking led to Dean's first hookup with Becky. Unfortunate for him, it was in the middle of a divorce from his wife Renee. Though he was separated from Renee, they were still legally married when he slept with Becky. That stirred up quite a fire in the settlement case and caused a few more problems for Dean than he had hoped for in the end.

"Yeah, but that sweet pumpkin pie is worth the alimony check I have to sign every month." Dean slowly eased into a drawn out kiss to the red head as his right hand slid up her bare thigh and came to rest on her hip. Dean continued. "Besides, this isn't a serious thing. You can break things off whenever you want and I'll be alright. There's this new chick up in IA and she's just asking for a nice fuck. Like, seriously, Beck, you should see this girl."

Becky shook Dean's hand off and rolled off the bed. "I gotta get goin', Dean."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "What's up with you?"

"It's gettin' late and I gotta be at the lab tomorrow mornin'." Becky explained while she slid her jeans and t-shirt back on.

"Tomorrow's Saturday." Dean said.

"Tell me abou' it," Becky pecked Dean on the cheek. "I'll see ya later."

"Wanna fool around tomorrow after work?" Dean asked.

Becky stopped in the doorway. "Uh, maybe, if I'm not too tired."

Dean snickered. "If you're too tired I can have a piece of pumpkin pie and let you relax."

Becky rolled her eyes and waved goodbye to her lover. Dean sighed deeply and shook his head. Becky was obviously not ok with the casual thing; Dean could tell by the look on her face. She knew very well that it was never going to be more than that, but here she went going and making herself fall for him.

Dean fell back against the untidy bed. It occurred to him that maybe he felt the same about her some days. But other days he was happy he could break things off with her whenever he felt like. Maybe he could take a shot at the cute IA lady if she loosened up and let him take her out. Take her out, then back to his place for some quality time.

Dean shook his head and crawled under his covers to get some rest if he ever hoped to wake up tomorrow and finish his overdue paperwork.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean's Saturday night was ordinarily the sort of thing people wrote magazine articles about. Nothing made him happier, most weeks, than drinking a lot of beer and talking shit at the bar with Corey, Captain Reigns, and whoever else was crazy enough to try to hang with him. Tonight was different. Since he'd watched Becky leave his house, he had a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd badly hurt his "fuck buddy's" feelings. As much as he didn't think he was ready to be serious with a woman again, Becky did at least present an intriguing opportunity. As his sleek sports car traversed closer to Becky's small but elegant townhome in a much nicer part of Stamford than Dean himself lived, the erratic detective ran through his mental checklist of traits he liked about Becky.

"...well, she's hot. Really hot. You like her hair. Its pretty and she doesn't mind if you pull it in bed." Dean snickered to himself at the mental image of Becky on all fours in front of him last night. "Her body is ridiculous. Like, stupid ridiculous. She's cool, and she doesn't mind just going out and drinking." Ambrose scanned his memory for more characteristics he enjoyed about Becky Lynch. "She's funny, and very sweet, and she seems to really like me." Those were all reasons why Dean couldn't figure out why he was so apprehensive to commit to a dating relationship with the Irish beauty. Finally, as Dean pulled into a parking spot across the street from Becky's residence, he resolved himself to at least having an honest, open conversation with her about his mental state tonight. Putting his car into park, he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and texted Becky.

 _Hey Bex. U home?_

Dean was more anxious than he was comfortable with while waiting for her response. Finally, his smartphone screen lit up like Christmas Eve as he got her response.

 _Dean, I just got back from the gym. What do you need?"_

Dean sighed. She was irritated with him. None of the usual "hey you" or "ey boyo" when she responded. Still, Dean was resolved to have this talk in person.

 _I'm outside. I'd really like to talk. Ten minutes. Please?_

As far as Becky remembered, that was the first time Dean had ever said "please" that didn't involve sex. At least to her. Staring out from her upstairs window, she could see Dean, leaning against his car, looking anxiously at his device. She couldn't help but grin. All she wanted was for Dean to be honest with her. If that meant they couldn't be together, then that was fine, but she didn't want to play games at her age and stage in life. Still, she was gonna make him sweat before hearing what he had to say.

 _You sure you didn't say everything you needed to this morning?_

Becky let a smirk form across her lips as she saw Dean's head shake from her view of the handsome Ambrose, then allowed a full on giggle as he pantomimed throwing his phone into the street. Finally, she watched in anticipation as Dean finally typed his response.

 _Actually, that's one of the things I wanted to discuss. I owe you an apology._

Becky shook her head. She knew she should either ignore him or tell him to go away, but Dean was still here, so he was at least semi-serious. Steeling herself, she scampered down her stairs to let Dean in the front door.

 _Make it quick. I'm tired._

Dean nodded. "Good." He sauntered across the quiet street, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. After waiting at the front door for just long enough to be mildly irritated, Becky cracked open the door, making sure it was Dean, then stepped out onto her front walk, pulling the door almost all the way closed. She pulled away from Dean slightly as he tried to slide his hands to her hips, but she did keep one of his hands in hers as she removed them.

"Ok, Dean, you're here. What do you want to say?"

Dean inhaled deeply. Apologies were not his strong suit. It's not that he never thought he was wrong, but he had trouble communicating his inward thoughts and emotions. Squeezing Becky's hand, he gave the girl a tight lipped smile.

"First of all, I didn't tell you how much fun I had last night."

Becky scoffed. "Yeah, I'll bet."

Dean cut her off. "No, not just the sex, although that was…" he trailed off, staring into the distance briefly. "Sorry. I did really enjoy that. But you're fantastic company, too. I really like being around you. You have a spirit that makes everyone around you better, and I'm lucky I get to be around it as much as I do."

Despite herself, Becky could feel the color rushing to her cheeks. She broke eye contact with Dean and stared at the ground, hoping not to betray how much she liked this softer side of Dean. Dean slid his finger under her chin, lifting her head back toward him.

"It's true. And I'm sorry. Sorry for making you pay the price for mistakes I made. You had no idea Renee and I weren't completely done when you slept with me, and I'm sorry for that. I'm also sorry for taking you for granted. You deserve more than being someone's standby."

As he said that last part, he felt Becky begin to lean into him a bit, running her hands up his biceps and resting them on his shoulders.

Becky said. "Thank you for saying that, Dean. I just...I don't like feeling like I'm just a plaything for you when you're bored. I have too much self respect to keep being ok with just sleeping with someone, no matter how good it might be… and is." She lowered her voice at that last part, stopping to reach up on her very tip toes to lightly peck Dean on his lower lip.

Dean nodded in response to her statement. "I know, and it's not fair to you for me to keep using the Renee stuff as a reason not to commit." Now it was Dean's turn to glance at the ground. "I still don't know if I can commit, Beck."

She smiled, rubbing his shoulders with her hands again before linking her hands behind his neck. "Dean, I don't expect you to commit tomorrow. But we have been sleeping together for a year. I just need to know that you're open to the idea at some point."

She pulled Dean in for a tight embrace, no longer caring that she was still in her workout clothes, or that her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. "He's seen me a lot sweatier and much more disheveled than this," she mused to herself. She kissed Dean on his jaw before lowering herself again from her toes, catching Dean staring at her. "What?" She asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Beck, I haven't thought about my future like, at all since the divorce, but…" he hesitated, pondering his next words carefully. "You are just the absolute best part of my present, and I am open to trying to figure out if that means anything long-term."

Like he had that morning, Dean could see the expression on Becky's face change in an instant. Her body relaxed slightly in Dean's embrace, and her blue eyes caught his slightly differently.

"Dean, that was actually really sweet. If you are really serious about being willing to keep an open mind, and for fuck's sake stop talking about how hot the new IA girl is, I'd love to start seeing you more regularly. Is that a problem?"

Dean sighed. Part of him wanted to say "yes." After all, this was going against every rule he'd set for himself after his messy breakup with Renee. But, at this point he was somewhat attached to Becky just from physical intimacy, and he'd learned not long after they'd started their complex friendship what a catch Becky really was, and so Dean decided that for now, he was willing to try to be more what she needed.

"I'm willing to give dating a shot."

Becky grinned even wider, sliding her hands to the sides of Deans face and kissing him sweetly. "I'm very glad." She released her grip on his face and slipped her hands into his. "Would you like to come in? I need to take a shower, but you could buy me a drink after."

Dean snickered. "I'd rather you just invited me into the shower," he joked to himself, but despite his aversion to long term commitment, he was going to resist saying anything that he knew would irritate Becky on purpose.

"That sounds great. If you need any help in the shower, I'm great at reaching those 'hard to get' places."

Becky led Dean into her front room, closing the door behind her. She pointed toward the couch, quickly telling Dean to "make yourself comfortable" and that she'd be right out.

Dean had no more turned the tv on and gotten settled in before he felt the luscious lips of Becky Lynch leaving sultry kisses up Dean's neck and jaw, before once again lightly biting Dean's earlobe.

"On second thought," Becky almost whispered in his ear, "I probably could use some company." She released Dean's ear and gave him a final, breathy kiss to his cheek before Dean sprang from his seat on the sofa. Originally intending to sprint to the shower as quickly as possible after peeling off his clothes. As he turned to take Becky in with his eyes, he stopped and drew in a sharp breath.

She was clad in a teal silk bathrobe that offset her hair to the degree of making it appear she was on fire. Her long gorgeous mane was pulled atop her head, and her shapely legs cascaded from her soft bathrobe like nothing Dean had ever seen. And he'd seen Becky naked upward of 30 times, so this was particularly eye catching.

"Holy shit, Beck." Dean looked her over again. "Seriously."

Instead of responding right away, Becky just smiled and tried not to let her emotions get the better of her. Finally, she spoke.

"You like?"

Dean, for the first time in a long time, found himself at a loss for words. "I...yeah. You look good enough to eat."

Becky gave him her best "bedroom smile" and beckoned him toward her with a crooked finger. Dean walked slowly over to her, soaking her in with every step he took toward the redheaded minx that had suddenly cast a spell over him.

"That's the idea, lad."


	5. Chapter 5

Detective Graves wasn't expecting a phone call Saturday morning. It was his day off and he had handed in all his required paperwork that was due that week. But, alas, that was the life as a homicide detective. Whether or not he wanted to come in, if he was called he was expected to be there ASAP.

Captain Reigns was the one that called Graves about a murder downtown. Graves agreed he'd be there as fast as he could and hung up. Corey quickly got dressed, checked to make sure all doors and windows were locked, said goodbye to a half asleep Nikki, then stepped out into the cool summer morning.

Charlotte was already waiting for him by his car. As usual, she handed him his much needed cup of coffee.

"Captain tell you what we got?" Flair asked.

Graves shook his head. "Patrolman called it in about half an hour ago. The guy says he found the woman, throat cut and stuffed in a dumpster."

Charlotte shook her head. "Fuckin' animals, I tell ya."

"Yeah, but these animals keep the lights on. So, I'm not complaining right now." Graves said.

* * *

By Sunday, the precinct was buzzing with activity stemming from the dead body that'd been recovered the day before. Murders weren't uncommon in that part of Connecticut, but bodies weren't ordinarily found in places like dumpsters. The vast majority of homicides in Stamford were either robberies/home invasions gone wrong or the result of some kind of marital infidelity taken to an extreme; rich wives finding their husbands in bed with the "sexcretary" OR husbands walking in on their trophy wives taking the lawn boy for a test drive. But disposing bodies in public places wasn't the chic method of crime scene sanitation in an area like Stamford. Most people there didn't want to get their hands dirty. The owner of the bar where the murder took place showed Graves and Flair the security footage, but the camera wasn't angled correctly to catch the murder; It only showed the victim leave through the back door and walk in the direction of the dumpster.

That wasn't the only strange element of this particular homicide. Corey, having spent time with the body both at the crime scene and the morgue, couldn't find any signs of struggle, which was highly uncommon for a murder of that type. Most women would at least have blood under their fingernails from an altercation with the assailant. In addition, this young woman appeared to be a hooker. This wouldn't be weird in and of itself, but it was common knowledge in that area that most of the hookers working Stamford were actually from Atlantic City, New York, or Boston, and were brought in by their pimps or customers for the evening. Very rarely did they spend the whole night in the suburbs, meaning this girl was either a local or a high priced call girl brought to the affluent Stamford area by someone with money.

The way she died disturbed Graves more than he'd like to admit. Her throat had been cut so deep she was nearly decapitated. Serrated blade from forensic reports, but it was multiple slashes instead of one. Meaning whoever killed this woman either sawed through her neck or chopped at it with their weapon. Nothing else on her body had any other marks or wounds. Her purse had been found outside the dumpster along with a pack of Soaring Owl cigarettes and a business card for "Funkadactyls Services." First piece of evidence Corey could find at the crime scene, otherwise everything else belonged to the bar or didn't seem out of the ordinary. What was strange though was the woman's driver's license wasn't in her purse.

Now in the depths of the Stamford City hospital, Graves and Flair had been called in by the pathologist on call for that day. The body had been given a proper autopsy and it was confirmed she had died from blood loss due to a cut throat. From the coroner's report, nothing else had been found in her system; No drugs or alcohol were found in her system from the last twenty-four hours, but she did have semen in her digestive system.

"Christ." Flair muttered under her breath.

"No, I don't think this was him." Graves replied. "What I don't understand is what type of weapon was large enough to cut a slash like the this one did."

Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. "Handsaw. Serrated machete. Chainsaw, maybe."

Graves shook his head. "Whatever the case, it's fucked up. We should head back to Murphy's and see if the owner remembers seeing her or anyone she was with last night."

Charlotte nodded her head. "Right, maybe do one final scan of the alley behind the bar. Just in case we missed something."

The doors to the morgue burst open. A massive man dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit and a matching fedora bounded up to the observation table, being followed post haste by the pathologist.

"That my girl? My baby girl?" The man asked frantically. Upon seeing the body displayed on the observation table, the man's face shifted from fear to one of pain. "Nah," He muttered, covering his face as he backed away. "Nah, nah, man, this ain't happenin' right now."

"Who are you?" Flair asked.

"This is who picked up the phone when we called the number on the business card," Said the woman who Graves was certain was named Paige or something like that.

"Um, sir?" Graves approached the man slowly. "Can I get your name?"

The man, crying heavily into his hands, nodded his head. "It's Clay. Brodus Clay," He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. "All my baby girls call me Funkasaurus. That's just a nickname though."

"Right," Graves said. "Do you know why she was here? Your card says you run out of Bridgeport and that's pretty far away."

Brodus' lip quivered. "Aww, man, my sweet Eva Marie. She was a medical student, gonna be a nurse when she graduated," He brushed the bright red hair on Eva's head with his hand and kissed her forehead. "Rest in peace, baby girl."

"Well, we got a name now," Charlotte commented to Graves. "Eva Marie," She turned to Brodus. "Mr. Clay? What was Eva Marie's last name?"

"Nelson," Brodus replied. "She never liked getting called that though. Always Eva Marie. To answer your question, officer, she was out here to meet a client… Now I was told me and my baby girls wasn't gonna get in no trouble for me bein' here."

"Believe me, Clay, you're the least of my concerns right now," Flair said.

Clay nodded his head. "Thank you, ma'am. She came here to meet a regular, Buddy Murphy if I remember right. She comes out here every other weekend to meet with him. Fella pays ten grand just for some head. He required her by name. So, since all my girl's get eighty percent of the pay, I figured I'd keep sendin' Eva Marie out here every time cuz I know she got medical school to pay for."

"Sounds like you take good care of your girls, Mr. Clay." Graves said.

Clay nodded his head. "Oh, yessir, all my girls are looked after real good. They feelin' sick, I don't make 'em come in. I tells the client she's not feelin' too well, and I offer another girl that's havin' a good day."

"Remind me to go back to Murphy's so we can question the owner," Graves whispered to his partner. "It's possible he's a suspect in this case."

Flair nodded her head. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Clay," She told the man. "Sorry for your loss. Miss Knight here can help you arrange a funeral."

Flair and Graves made their way back to his car. As soon as Charlotte sat down her phone began to ring.

"Yeah?" Flair smiled. "Hey, Bay, sorry I didn't say goodbye this morning…. I was in a hurry, they gave me a new case last night… Yes, I told you that… Ok, I'll make sure to tell you next time… I love you too…" She chuckled. "If you feel like you want to then go ahead… Ok, I love you too, Bay."

"So where do we go first? Back to Murphy's, right?" Graves asked.

Flair was preoccupied with smiling at her phone. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want." She said to Graves.

Graves shook his head. "I swear, you think you're a badass but the second Bayley calls you turn into a little kid in a candy store."

"She's my fiance, fuck off." Flair snapped back.

Graves snickered before turning over the car's engine and heading back to Murphy's bar.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean wasn't used to waking up in Becky's bed without being hungover. But that wasn't the only change Dean was encountering that Sunday morning. After every previous encounter with his devastatingly beautiful...companion, they'd lay closely together for a minute or two, maybe share a giggle and an embrace, then each would retreat to their respective half of whoever's bed they were in to go to sleep. This morning, however, Dean woke up to find Becky sleeping snuggled right into him, her cheek pressed sweetly but firmly against his pectoral. And, if Ambrose were being honest with himself, he didn't hate it. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to wake up smelling the fragrant aroma of Becky's shower gel, and with the soft breath of someone he cares about tickling his body.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, scanning Becky's bedroom and getting his bearings. "There's a downside to actually sleeping over here." Maybe a quick roll around in the dirt would remove the scent of strawberry-kiwi shampoo from his body. Then again, much to his ironic chagrin, he liked the scent of Becky's pumpkin colored head of hair. Reaching toward his phone on the nightstand, he peered at his screen, his stomach dropping slightly as he read the text from Captain Reigns, informing him of a last minute briefing regarding a murder Dean hadn't heard anything about. His displeasure was audible this time.

"Fuck."

Becky began to stir, moaning softly and planting a couple of light kisses on Dean's chest. "Didya say somethin', Dean?"

"Uh, yeah, I gotta head to the station, I guess," He slithered out from underneath Becky's body, being careful not to disturb her relaxation. "Cory and Charlotte caught a body. Roman's gotta fill us all in on it, since it sounds like it's not the kind of murder we normally get here."

Becky stirred again, slinking her arm around Dean. "Do I need to go, too?"

Dean really didn't know the answer to that. "Check your phone. My guess is weekend forensics took care of anything you'd need to go get, but we may all be getting called in on this, since it isn't normal shit going down."

Becky nodded, though still groggy, and snuggled herself closer to her bedmate. "Thank ya for stayin' over," she continued. "It's a little bit easier to feel like you meant what you said last night when you didn't try to leave after."

Dean grinned and snickered lightly. "Well, I figured since you washed the clothes I left here last time, I didn't need to get home quite so soon."

Instead of the playful slap or elbow Dean was expecting, Becky softly kissed his cheek and gently ran her finger tips over his upper torso. "You can leave more over here, if ya want."

Dean chuckled. "Ya know what? I think I might just do that," He turned his head, connecting his lips softly with those of the stunning redhead behind him. "But for now," He continued, standing up from the bed and stretching his back. "I gotta get to the station," He paused, smirked, and shook his head. "This is probably the first time I'm actually excited about going to work. I think it's because I had a great time last night, and I got to wake up in a house that wasn't a complete shithole for once."

"And wake up next to yer very attractive kinda-girlfriend." Becky added, giggling when Dean nodded his head.

"Actually, I think we should talk more about that when I come back after the meeting," Dean threw on the same clothes he was wearing the previous day. He was serious when he said he didn't want to make the trip across town just to get clean clothes. Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, I could get used to the idea of waking up next to you every morning and actually feeling lucky to be alive for once."

"Oh, boyo, I already said ya don' need ta make a decision righ' away. I can be patient if ya need me ta be." The Irish beauty said, and by the tone in her voice and expression in her eyes, Dean could tell she was being genuine with that claim.

"Well, maybe I have made a decision," Dean scooped up his trusty leather jacket and threw it on over his broad shoulders. "But I'll tell ya after the meeting, ok?"

Becky arched an eyebrow. "Oh, ya did, did ya? Tell me then."

Dean shook his head, trying his best to hide the grin on his face. "No way, Becks, I gotta get goin'." As he moved towards the bedroom door, he threw his arms up to block an incoming airborne throw pillow from hitting him in the face. Dean continued. "I'm serious, I gotta get goin'. I promise we'll talk when I get back."

Dean went to head out the door again but stopped in his tracks. Though Becky was smiling at him, he could read her face easily and know she was far from happy. He sighed. "Why does she have to be so damn cute?" He thought to himself.

Dean returned to Becky's bedside. Holding her shoulders gently, Dean kissed his bedmate's forehead. Becky giggled under her breath and smiled. "That doesn' make up fer it, Dean." Beck said. "But I appreciate the gesture."

Dean smirked. "I'll be back in an hour. Then we can talk, have lunch, maybe… fool around if you're feeling up for it."

"Will it be celebratory shagging or break up?" Becky asked.

Dean kissed her forehead again. "It's good things, I promise. I'll see you in a little bit," His calloused hands slip to her cheeks. He pressed his lips softly to hers, tracing her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "See you soon, babe."

Becky nodded her head, smiled sweeter at him, then gave him a playful slap on the backside as he turned and left the bedroom.

* * *

Detectives Graves and Flair arrived at the scene of the murder that took place the night before. Graves hadn't mentioned he didn't get any sleep the previous night. One would assume that a homicide detective would be used to this kind of thing, but you'd be mistaken.

Charlotte seemed to have a shorter temper than usual and craved the same amount of caffeine Graves' unhealthy obsession called for, but she didn't mention anything to him about any personal issue this case brought.

"Alright, scene of the crime," Graves said, stepping into the alleyway behind Murphy's. "You wanna talk to the guy or take a look? We could do it together if you want."

"No, we need to talk to the owner together," Flair replied. "He might not want to talk to you and he won't take me seriously which will cause me to punch him in the teeth."

Graves chuckled. "Together it is then."

As expected, the police tape was still up across the entrance to the back alley. Graves and Flair both stepped over the line. The white outline of where Eva was found was still on the pavement; Her arms were spread out wide with her legs bent at odd angles.

"Ok, still no murder weapon, suspect, motive, or proof there was a murder here except the dead whore," Charlotte sighed. "We could just book Murphy. Say the whore overcharged him, he got mad, then he tailed her out here and slit her throat."

"Yeah, but the security cameras showed him bartending during the murder," Graves replied. "Plus, I didn't see a murder weapon in the dumpster or his office. So, unless he was carrying a serrated blade on him, I don't think he did it."

Flair shrugged. "He may have."

Graves nodded his head. "Yeah, he may have, but at this point we have enough proof to say the Pope did it too."

"Very funny, smartass," Charlotte opened the back door to the bar; Graves followed her inside. "Let's just talk to this guy a little more. See how hard he sweats when we tell him we know why Eva was here."

The scene inside the hole-in-the-wall tavern hadn't been much different than the night before. A few bar patrons were scattered here and there, but it wasn't as busy during the day as it was later on. Graves and Flair marched towards the bar, ignoring the side glances from the few people that were there.

Flair cleared her throat upon reaching the bar. "Hey, Murphy, we're back." She said, trying her best to sound intimidating while glancing suspiciously at the drunken man at the end of the bar that was eyeing her up.

Murphy turned away from the beer tab he was in the process of cleaning. After making eye contact with both Graves and Flair, he sighed heavily. "Look, I already told you all I know," He responded in his thick Australian accent. "Eva was here talkin' with some of the customers. Then she left. I don't know who followed her out there. She was fine when she left."

"Well, that's great," Flair said, flashing a tight lipped smile. "Then, enlighten me, why is her pimp telling us she was here for a little more than beer and peanuts last night?"

Murphy's face grew pale. Graves smirked; Charlotte was GOOD at her job. "Mr Clay tells us you have him send her out here every other week," Graves said. "Somethin' about twenty grand just for a little head bobbing. That's a lot of cash for something everyone gets on their prom night."

Murphy shrugged. "The woman's an expert. Well… Was."

"Enough with the shit, Murphy," Flair snapped. "We want to know what happened between you two last night. Then, maybe if I'm in a good mood, I won't call Vice in here to bust your ass for prostitution."

Murphy shook his head. "Fine." He gestured for the officers to follow him.

Graves and Flair rounded the bar and followed Murphy to his office.

* * *

Murphy sat in front of his desk and computer, his focus on the detectives in front of him. Graves and Flair had their eyes glued to the computer screen. They had thought of a million possibilities, but this was oddly not one of them.

"When was this video uploaded?" Graves asked.

"Last night," Murphy said. "You can pull up the upload history. I let it upload while I was out there bartending. Then, a little after two, I came in here to make sure everything had loaded nice."

"Slut gets caught stealing tips part seven," Charlotte read the title with a slow head shake. "So, just to make everything clear, you have a high price prostitute come all the way out here, pay her twenty grand, then film the two of you having sex?"

Murphy nodded his head. "Yeah, that's it. I make thirty grand every two weeks just on ad revenue. The woman was makin' me rich. She got most of it, the rest I spent to keep this place going. If police ever came lookin' around for a source of income, I have a legal one. Puttin' dirty videos online ain't illegal."

"No, but prostitution is." Flair said. She turned to Graves. "Shit, thirty grand? I might quit and start doing that for a living."

"Yeah, ya could," Murphy chimed in. "If you're that dyke cop all the boys be talkin' 'bout, you'll make tons of money at that shit."

Flair spun on her heels. Her fists balled up at her sides, digging her fingernails into her palms. "The what cop, mother fucker?" She demanded.

"Easy, Flair," Graves muttered. "We don't need IA all over this mess."

"I didn't mean no harm by that," Murphy explained fearfully. "Just sayin' a lot of the audience enjoy… Girl on girl. It's not my cup of tea, but it's someone's."

Flair shook her head. "Well, lucky for you you're just a normal scumbag. Nothing, except the hooker, has been done illegally. I hope you're happy with yourself."

Buddy stood up. "Look… I got a fiance, she works in IA at your station. She can't know I do this."

"Once we fill out the report there's not a whole lot we can do," Graves explained. "Better pray she's ok with her soon-to-be husband giving it to a hooker to pay rent."

Graves and Flair turned their backs on the weeping mess that was Buddy Murphy. They moved quickly through the bar, realizing more bar dwellers were staring at them rather intensely.

"You know what's fucked up?" Flair asked, sliding into Graves' car. "He didn't even seem upset that Eva Marie is dead. He was, like, inconvenienced by it."

"Well, he just lost his main source of income," Graves said. "Plus, with the way Mr Clay is, he won't be sending anyone else out here again anytime soon."

Charlotte chuckled. "Maybe we'll see the new IA girl spread eagle on PornHub pretty soon."

"If she is as hot as Dean says, then maybe so," Graves slid his phone from his pocket. "Speaking of which, looks like we gotta get to the station. Captain wants everyone down there to talk about this case."

"Why everyone?" Flair asked.

"Most likely because we haven't seen a murder this gruesome since the eighties. It's mostly robberies gone wrong or billionaires gunning down their wives after they find her sleeping with the pool boy."

"Back when things were cut and dry simple?" Flair asked.

Graves started his car's ignition. "Exactly." He said, pulling out of the parking spot in front of Murphy's.


	7. Chapter 7

The Stamford homicide unit piled into the conference room on the second floor. Captain Roman Reigns waited patiently for the handful of detectives to make their way to their seats.

Graves and Flair were the last two to walk in. Stamford only had six homicide detectives, Graves and Flair and Ambrose included. The only other partners were Bo Dallas and Curtis Axel. The other solo detective was Emma Dashwood; Her partner was transferred to Greenwich the year before. Emma and Dean got the offer to partner with each other, but they both insisted otherwise.

After the homicide staff got settled into the large room, Captain Reigns took his spot at the head of the room.

"Good morning, everyone," Reigns addressed the room full of people in his deep baritone. "I know it's short notice, but thank you for coming in today."

Detective Ambrose entered the room, taking the focus off of Reigns. Ambrose nodded his head awkwardly at Reigns and took a seat beside Detective Dashwood.

"Ambrose, thank you for joining us," Reigns said. "Any important reason you're late today?"

Ambrose shrugged. "Two for one doughnuts at Slamberg's. Couldn't pass that shit up."

The joke garnered a few chuckles. Graves and Flair shared twin looks of annoyance before rolling their eyes. Reigns smirked and nodded his head; He never really got used to Dean's behavior.

"As I was saying," Reigns continued, addressing the entire room now. "Just the other night, a call girl was found dead outside Murphy's Bar. Her throat had been cut nearly all the way through with a serrated blade. Forensics has confirmed that it wasn't one motion, but several aggressive slashes. Meaning whoever did this had tried sawing through the woman's neck."

"Jesus," Dashwood muttered.

Reigns shook his head. "I wish it were that simple, Dashwood. So far we don't have any leads. Graves and Flair have the case, but I felt the need to address this situation with you all. We've never, in the last two decades, have had a murder like this. No one has ever mutilated another human being since the Bray Wyatt murders in the nineties. In the chance that something like this happens again, the signs are very important. The victim will be a female. The victim will most likely be a call girl. The victim's neck will be nearly cut through all the way. Lastly, the victim's driver's license will be missing. If when receiving a call, any of these signs show up, it's possible we have a serial killer on the loose. It could be just a one time thing, but just in case I want you all to be aware. Dallas and Axel just busted a woman for killing her husband because a neighbor noticed she took a different route to work that morning. Attention to detail can make or break a case."

"Didn't that woman confess?" Ambrose asked. "I thought she came into the station in tears and admitted to the murder."

"Yeah, while we were pursuing her to make the arrest," Axel replied.

"Still, don't you think you kinda got lucky? Your biggest lead was a noisy neighbor and a rusty pair of scissors with very little DNA evidence. Without that confession, Betty Crocker would still be running around."

"Without a proper confession, you'll feel God's unholy wrath, Ambrose." Dallas commented.

Dean chuckled. "Well, you and God can kiss my unholy ass."

"Alright, that's enough," Reigns said over the laughter in the room. He continued after the noise calmed down. "Just a little heads when you get a case again. Dashwood, I got a body that was found in a ditch outside town. We figure it was an overdose, but we want you to take another look just in case. Since it's in a shady spot in town, I'd prefer you take someone along. Since no one else is available, you'll have to take Ambrose with you."

"Are you bloody joking?" Dashwood replied.

Dean snickered. "Oh, just like old times, huh, Em? Gonna be a good day today."

Dashwood threw Ambrose a dirty look. Reigns dismissed the department. Flair and Graves headed for their car while Ambrose and a very annoyed Dashwood made their way to hers.

* * *

Arriving on the scene, Ambrose and Dashwood found that the body was already picked up. There was still police tape around the area and a forensics doctor taking pictures.

Dashwood, keeping her eyes hidden behind a pair of dark aviator sunglasses, was keen on making this trip with Ambrose as short as possible. She knew the kind of reputation Ambrose had as a cop; She wasn't about to let her credibility decline because she got caught screwing around with that low life.

Ambrose wasn't too worried about the scene. He'd gotten cases like this dozens of times. If it were just some junkie, he'd be back at Becky's in twenty minutes flat. If not… Then it was going to be a big pain in the ass.

This part of town, nicknamed 'Delinquent Boulevard', was a giant trailer park lot next to an abandoned shoe factory and a train station that was rarely used. This part of Stamford got its nickname from the great amount of drug dealings, prostitution, and other petty crimes that took place around that area.

Dashwood and Ambrose approached the taped off area. Dashwood stepped over the police tape to get a better look at the body outline in the high grass inside the ditch.

"You're gonna get your DNA all over that shit," Ambrose told Dashwood.

"Fuck off, Ambrose," Dashwood shot back.

Dean snickered. "Ok, but don't come cryin' to me when they got you locked up for fifteen because they found your spit next to the body."

Dashwood glared at her temporary partner. "Are you gonna bother come looking?"

Ambrose had his face pointed at the sky. "Looks like it might start raining. We should hurry up and get this shit done."

Dashwood threw her hands in the air. "What the hell is your problem? We have work to do."

"Do we?" Ambrose said with a sarcastic grin. "Crime scene looks pretty deserted. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Usually would be a few more street walkers around, but, it is pretty chilly so I dunno." Ambrose turned in the direction of a woman in a fur coat walking in the opposite of him and Dashwood. "See her, Em? I bet she's got a decent job."

Dashwood glanced at the woman Ambrose was referring to. "Her? No. She's a whore, Ambrose. Her coat has 'cock gobbler' written all over it."

"Think so?" Ambrose cupped his hands together. "Hey," He shouted at the woman; She turned in his direction. "Stamford PD, c'mere."

The woman rolled her eyes. "What do you want now, Dean?" She said in a thick Brooklyn accent.

"How does she know you?" Dashwood demanded.

"Good to see you again, Carmella," Ambrose said to the woman. "How's the ankle biter?"

Carmella laughed mockingly. "Jasmine is fine. What do you want, detective? I ain't stolen nothin' in months."

"Carmella, what do you do for a living?" Ambrose asked.

Carmella rolled her eyes. "Alright, jackass, you know what I do."

"Humor me." Ambrose insisted.

Carmella rolled her eyes again. "I'm a waitress at La Parka's. I used to date the owner in college so he got me a job."

"And by 'date' you mean a couple of handies in his BMW to help pay for Jasmine's daycare?" Ambrose said.

"He thought we was datin' so there's no harm there," Carmella admitted. "What's it to you?"

"Where'd you get that coat? Seems pretty expensive for a waitress." Ambrose commented.

"It was half off at the thrift store. Go fuck yaself." Carmella snapped.

Ambrose turned back to Dashwood. "See? Just because she wears a big, bushy coat doesn't mean she's a whore. She's just a struggling single mom with a shitty job that sometimes steals from Stop-N-Shop to make sure her baby gets fed. Sometimes you beat the patrolman to the shop and let her off free. Sometimes the new kid on the force gets a little excited when he gets a call so you gotta convince a newbie or two it was a misunderstanding."

Dashwood crossed her arms. "How the fuck are you not in prison?"

Dean snickered. "Because I am great at my job," He fished a wad of bills from his pocket. He pulled a hundred out and handed it to Carmella. "Here. It's almost fall and I know Jazzy ain't got a jacket yet. If you're wearing one already, then she needs one too. Tell her Uncle Dean says hi."

Carmella smirked. "Ya know she ain't really your kid, right? That was just a joke."

"Yeah, but still. Buy some milk too; There's a sale right now." Ambrose gave Carmella a smack on the backside as she walked away; Carmella giggled, playfully gave Dean the finger, then hurried off.

"What was the point of that?" Dashwood asked.

"You don't judge a book by its cover. Just because someone looks the part doesn't mean they're guilty. Anyone can look like a bum but secretly be prince charming. I mean, you thought the same thing at one point," Ambrose stepped over the police tape. He stood in front of his temporary partner. He gave her a grin. "Just like college, yeah?"

Even though she was wearing sunglasses, Ambrose could tell Dashwood had rolled her eyes. "Jesus, it was one kiss," She said.

"There was definitely some third base action on your part. Besides," Dean shrugged. "If it wasn't for that quickie in that port-a-potty I never would've met my future ex wife ten minutes later. So, in a way, thanks for that beej at that concert."

Dashwood sighed heavily. "Sure, Ambrose, can we get back to our job?"

"It wasn't a drug overdose; Poor bastard got stabbed in the neck with an ice pick. When the witness found him, he was so drained of blood, no one noticed the puncture mark in his neck." Ambrose stated.

Dashwood shook her head. "How do you reckon that?"

Ambrose pointed at the sewer drain at the far end of the ditch. "That bloody ice pick someone tried to throw down the drain."


	8. Chapter 8

If Dean's love of the Devil's brew hadn't gotten him in trouble, he would be regarded as a real life Sherlock Holmes. But, along with several trips to IA every month, drinking himself silly every weekend brought a bad name to Stamford's homicide unit.

Standing in the morgue with Dashwood and the pathologist, Ambrose's theory was confirmed with the ice pick they found at the crime scene.

"Great spot, Detective," Paige, the pathologist, told Ambrose. "The hole in the man's neck matches perfectly with this pick."

"Got a name for the guy?" Ambrose asked.

Paige nodded her head. "Mojo Rawley. Bouncer at Suplex City from the look of his bill fold. Time of death, I'd say midnight or closer to two am. Judging by where he was found, he was stabbed, stumbled a bit, then fell into the ditch. I don't know why they thought overdose."

Ambrose shrugged. "It's the Boulevard. You either overdose, get shanked, or get busted. No one ever makes it out of there in one piece."

Dashwood sighed. "Great. So we have a dead tit bar bouncer, and no lead suspect," She looked for Paige. "Did you find anything?"

Paige nodded her head. "Fingerprints."

"You're joking." Ambrose said.

"Been doin' this for five years, Detective, no one's laughed at any of my jokes." Paige informed. She handed a manilla envelope over to Ambrose. "Prints match the club owner: Paul Heyman. Figured that's your best shot."

Ambrose shook his head. "Goddamn. Great work, Knight."

"When are you free this week?" Paige asked.

Ambrose chuckled. "Sorry, kid, I have a prior commitment that needs to be attended to."

Paige scoffed. "I wasn't talking to you, Ambrose,"

Confused, Ambrose checked over his shoulder. Paige was standing awfully close to Dashwood. Dashwood was holding Paige's hand, talking to her quietly. The British woman laughed quietly then kissed Dashwood on her cheek.

Ambrose cleared his throat, breaking the other two apart. "Anyway, Suplex City it is." Ambrose said.

Dashwood nodded her head. "Right. Let's head there now, see what Heyman has to say for himself. He's a crafty mother fucker so this should be very interesting."

"It fucking looks like it might be." Ambrose agreed.

Ambrose and Dashwood left the hospital and returned to Dashwood's car.

This case should've been a quick and easy drug usage gone wrong. But thanks to Dean's keen eye for spotting trouble, this whole deal just got a lot more interesting for both Ambrose and Dashwood.

Ambrose clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Paul Heyman, eh? What kind of moron doesn't wear gloves when he murders someone? And then makes a half assed attempt at throwing the weapon away?"

"I reckon we'll find out," Dashwood replied, sliding her aviators back over her eyes. "How did you see the weapon in the first place, anyway?"

"The wind was coming in from the south-east, seven miles an hour, at a forty two degree temperature. Along with the gust came the scent of copper. Copper, being the smell of blood usually." Ambrose said, no hint of humor at all in his voice.

"Are you serious?" Dashwood asked.

Ambrose shook his head. "No. Sun reflected off the handle and got in my eyes. Good thing the sun was still out, otherwise we'd be standing around with our dicks in our hands trying to figure out how our new friend died."

Dashwood shook her head. "It amazes me how your brain works sometimes."

"So," Ambrose shook his head. "British chicks, huh?"

"And there goes that mystique. Shut it, Dean." Dashwood snapped.

"What? I'm just askin'. Didn't know that was your thing now." Ambrose said.

"It is now, so let's leave it at that." Dashwood said.

Ambrose chuckled. He mimicked zipping his mouth shut, locking it, then throwing a key out the window. Dashwood rolled her eyes and pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

Since there were no new leads with Eva Marie's case, Flair and Graves were caught at a dead end. There was no weapon. All suspects had an alibi. No one was seen with her before or after she left the bar. And no DNA (aside from the semen found in her stomach that belonged to Buddy Murphy) had been found at the crime scene, other than Eva's blood.

Graves and Flair, with nothing to investigate, sat at their assigned desks, completely stumped.

"I don't get how not one shred of DNA was left behind," Flair said. "Someone always leaves hair, or blood, or… Christ, semen, in the worst case scenario. But all we found was Murphy's come in the whore's stomach."

"Show some respect, her name was Eva Marie." Graves said, not angrily but in a reminding tone to Flair to talk respectively of the dead.

"Right, Eva's stomach," Flair sighed. "How are we supposed to catch the killer if we don't have anything? Obviously this was planned out, right?"

Graves nodded his head but remained silent.

"I just think it's odd that none of the businesses around the place had any kind of camera angle on the back alleyway." Flair said.

"None of the people in the bar talked to her. Just Murphy." Graves stated. "All we have to go off is the videos. The latest one doesn't show any kind of hostility between the two of them. Obviously, by the look of the ending, Murphy was pretty happy after the fact."

Flair stood up from her desk. "C'mon, let's get some lunch. It'll help us think."

Graves shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"I know, but I need a smoke and I know you do too. Plus, a burger wouldn't kill ya." Flair said.

Graves shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. "Yeah, what the hell?"

The two partners ventured out to the parking lot and to Graves' Impala.

* * *

Graves and Flair stopped at an old fashioned drive up fast food place called Bastian Burgers. Deciding he didn't like the crowd around the restaurant, Graves drove his car out to a part of town that overlooked the lake. It was the edge of a small cliff that people drove up on to have picnics or teenagers to make out. Graves smiled whenever he came to this spot, because his first bust as a cop was a public indecency charge for a couple having sex near the cliff.

Sitting on the hood of the Impala, Flair and Graves sat in silence, enjoying their burgers and cigarettes.

After a moment, Flair cleared her throat. "What's it like having a baby around?"

Graves raised an eyebrow. "What made you think of that?"

Flair pointed at a couple with an infant sitting near a tree. "Babies freak me out, but Bay wants one so bad. She's the kind of girl you just can't say no to."

Graves shrugged. "It's fine. JJ usually sleeps through the night. He only cries when Nikki leaves him alone for too long. I think he knows John isn't around and he automatically wants his mom more. I dunno. Being an uncle is cool. JJ loves this toy patrol car I got him."

"Sounds like an easy job." Flair said.

"I'm never home during the day, so it could all just be a nightmare when I'm gone. But Nick hasn't said anything. What about you? How'd you meet the future Mrs Flair?" Graves asked.

Flair sighed. "It's a long story. Wouldn't want to bother you."

Graves chuckled. "It's not like we've got anything better to do. Not a single fucking lead yet."

Flair nodded her head slowly. "About four years ago, while I was still a patrolman, got a call about a domestic disturbance. My partner was off that night, so I went to check it out by myself. Get there, door's open, yell that I'm there and answering a call. Middle of the living room is this guy, standing over his wife, just beating the holy shit out of her. Like, swinging his fists as hard as he can at this defenseless woman. So I grab the guy, pull him off the girl, cuff him, pull my gun and threaten to blow his head off if he moves. I turn to check on the girl…" Flair took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "And that was the first time I ever saw Bayley. Left eye swollen shut 'cause the fucker broke her orbital bone. Mouth was pouring blood. Just… I don't know why I didn't kill that mother fucker right there. I just don't know why I didn't do it. The funny thing is, after I literally found him beating the fuck out of her, she begged me not to have him sent to jail. She kept saying it was her fault he got mad. That she forgot to do something or whatever and that's why he lashed out. Well, I called an ambulance for Bayley, dragged her shithead husband out to my patrol car and slammed the door in his face. She didn't want to press charges, but I talked her into it. They only gave him ten years. Ten years. After he spent seven using her as his punching bag. Anyway, I helped her through the divorce after her husband got shipped away. Not one word back from him other than a signed divorce form. I offered to help her get back on her feet since she didn't have a job at the time. One thing led to another and I ended up asking her out on a date. She said she never had a girlfriend before, but she was willing to try. Seven weeks later and I'm on one knee like a goddamn fool. Even crazier, she says yes. This December will be three years together for us. I kinda feel bad for waiting so long to plan the wedding, but we barely knew each other when I asked her to marry me. So I figured I'd wait and get settled down before we did anything like that. Now she wants babies and I'm almost sure I'll be the worst fucking mom in the world," Flair chuckled dryly and took a drag from her cigarette. "Anyway, that's my and Bay's story. Don't tell her I'm smoking, by the way. She'll have a fuckin' coniption if she found out."

Graves shook his head. "I would've never guessed that happened to her. That's fuckin' awful."

Charlotte chuckled. "It's always the happy ones. Life was fucked but they don't want anyone else to feel pain so they do their best to make life better for everyone. Made my life better, that's for sure."

As Graves began to respond, his phone started ringing. He answered. "Yeah?" Graves' stomach dropped. "Are you serious? Yeah, we're on the way."

"What is it?" Flair asked.

"Another body," Graves jumped back into the driver's seat. "Same way Eva Marie died."


	9. Chapter 9

Ambrose and Dashwood pulled up to the infamous local strip club known as Suplex City. Owned and operated by a Mr Paul Heyman, this joint was famous for two things: strippers and hard vice. Though he tried on multiple occasions, Detective Ambrose was never able to pin anything on Heyman. But now, with his fingerprints on a murder weapon found near the body of one of his bouncers, this was surely the nail in the coffin Ambrose was looking for.

"Don't go fallin' in love with none of these girls," Ambrose said after Dashwood shifted the car into park. "My ex was a dancer here… Shit never ends well with these broads."

"I'll keep that in mind," Dashwood noted, shaking her head as she stepped out of her car.

The front entrance was almost deserted. The club itself opened at eleven, but none of the 'entertainment' started until seven pm.

Some of the dancers, who showed up early to try and seduce wealthier men into paying them extra tips, waited outside before their shift started.

"Officer Ambrose," One of the dancers called out in a thick accent. "You back so soon, honey? Looking for a dance or a little somethin' extra?"

Ambrose paused from walking. "They have you working this shift, Kai? I thought Rhea was the 'international attraction' on the weekends?"

Kai rolled her eyes. "She's in labor. She spends all her money on smokes and Whole Foods but doesn't bother with birth control. I'm surprised you never noticed; The kid's probably yours anyway."

Ambrose shook his head. "Nah, I've always been smart with that shit," He removed the wad of cash from his pocket, took a few bills from it, then tucked them in Kai's top. "Take the day off. I need to have a chat with Paulie."

Kai gave Ambrose a wink. "Thanks, babe. Feel free to tip me again whenever."

Dashwood shook her head in disgust. "Why do you associate yourself with these whores?"

"Who? Kai? She's from New Zealand. She's on a work Visa, that's about to expire, so she needs some serious dough to hold down an apartment and get her a citizenship form."

Dashwood crossed her arms. "You expect me to believe you're supposed to be some kind of ghetto hero to these people?"

Ambrose shrugged. "Yeah, you could say that."

The thumping club music burst into the Detectives' ears when Ambrose threw open the door and led them inside. As expected, no dancers where on stage or giving private shows. Two women were behind the bar serving drinks to the local alcoholics that couldn't afford normal priced drinks at any respectable bar in town.

Ambrose silently led Dashwood to the bar. He took a seat in an unoccupied stool and pushed another one out for his temporary partner to join him.

"You serious?" Dashwood asked.

"What's happenin', AJ?" Ambrose said to the tiny bartender, ignoring Dashwood entirely.

The small bartender shrugged her shoulders. "Phil didn't make parole again. I guess my panties are contraband in the state pen. Whatever, it's no big deal," She nodded her head at Dashwood. "Who's the dyke?"

"Dashwood, my loving partner," Ambrose replied.

"Give Kai a fifty and she'll give her a dance," AJ said.

Ambrose shook his head. "Actually, I gave Kai four Benjis to take the night off. I need to talk to Paul."

"You think paying off all his girls will make him want to talk?" AJ questioned.

"No, but getting rid of the ones he'll send my way to try and get me distracted will keep me focused on why I'm here," Ambrose pointed towards the back of the club. "Office?"

AJ nodded her head. "Yeah. Just so you know, Renee will be here for her shift soon. Maybe keep the meeting short? I don't want to fill out paperwork again."

Ambrose nodded his head. "Yeah, no problem. If it'll make you feel better, maybe I can pull some strings and see if I can get your hubby released faster."

"Really? Thanks, Dean," AJ said with a smile.

"Detective…" Ambrose corrected.

As they walked away, Dashwood leaned towards Ambrose's ear.

"Just because you're a cop," She hissed. "Doesn't mean I won't have you thrown in prison."

Ambrose shrugged. "Sure. And just because you're a chick, doesn't mean I'll hesitate to knock you across the room if you threaten me again," He connected his icy gaze with his partner's shocked expression. "Right?"

Dashwood scoffed. "Some man you are."

"Well, you want equality. And what better equality than getting the shit kicked out of you like everybody else? Maybe we keep our mouths shut and we won't have to." Dean said; His tone didn't express the aggression he could feel building up inside his chest. A person he thought was his friend, let alone another cop, was threatening him. That didn't sit right with Ambrose.

While Dean listed the pros and cons of saying he was sorry, he and Dashwood came upon a door marked 'employees only'. Ambrose chuckled, shook his head, and violently kicked the door in; The lock shattered and the door slammed against the office wall.

Inside, a woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Paulie!" Ambrose said excitedly at the man seated behind his desk.

A woman emerged from underneath the desk and hurried past Ambrose and Dashwood. The aforementioned Paul Heyman stood up from his desk and readjusted his black pants.

Ambrose shook his head. "Paulie," He said in a condescending manner. "You knew you were having us over and you still tried to get Lacey to suck you off? Come on, you know that's not appropriate."

"Detective," Heyman greeted the man in his office. "Detectives, I should say. Do what do I owe the pleasure? Did you find more obscure evidence that will convict me? How about a tweaker claiming I stiffed him in a deal?"

Ambrose took a seat in a leather chair in front of Heyman's desk; Dashwood uneasily sat beside Ambrose.

"Besides the dancers that could testify against you for sexual, physical, and emotional distress over the course of several years?" Ambrose asked. He shrugged. "Not much, but since that's not my department, I don't really give a shit which slut with double ds you want to bang. Hell, I may take a few home myself. But, what is distressing me today, is the dead meat head we found in a ditch not too far from here. Know a guy named Mojo Rawley?"

Heyman shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell, detective."

Ambrose grinned. "Then how come he's got a bouncer id from here? And we found a ice pick with your prints all over it next to his cold carcass? Seems like you'd know him if he works here."

Heyman smirked. "Brock handles security. I pay my employees and handle the big picture things. As you know, I'm a very busy man, detective, I can't possibly know everyone who works under me."

"Then why are your prints all over the murder weapon?" Dashwood questioned.

Heyman chuckled dryly. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe it was because the ice pick belonged to me? Maybe a dancer, who didn't get along with this Mojo fellow followed him home and took him out? If that theory doesn't please you, then video evidence showing me in my office all night long surely will. No, detectives, unless you have a warrant, I'll have to kindly ask you to leave."

Ambrose nodded his head. "Alright, you got us. We don't have shit," He stood up. "Lucky for you, that means one more night with a blonde hair skank that needs a raise. I hope you rot in hell, you fat piece of trash."

Ambrose and Dashwood turned for the door.

Heyman snickered. "Feel free to get a lap dance from Renee. She's a real sweetie. I hear she rides like a bucking bronco. Course I don't know… Yet."

Ambrose chuckled. "Yeah? I hear that too. Too bad she was busy fucking other guys in our home, otherwise I'd still be married to the miserable cunt," He shot a look over his shoulder. "Take care, Paulie. I'm sure I'll be back soon."

"Au revoir, detective," Heyman called.

"So that's it?" Dashwood hissed. "We just give up because this sleezey jackass talks out his ass?"

Ambrose shook his head. "No, it means we check on Mojo's girlfriend. She's a dancer here and she… Oh, fuck me."

"What?" Dashwood asked.

Ambrose headed for the bar. "AJ! I need a drink after all!"

"You got it, detective!" AJ called back.

"What is it?" Dashwood asked.

Ambrose sighed. "My ex wife just walked in, and I really, REALLY, don't want to see her right now. Not today."

Dashwood scanned the room. Other than AJ and a few bar patrons, the only person that stood out was a blonde woman with a pixie cut in a low cut dress.

"You married her?" Dashwood asked, surprised by the woman's beauty. "The hell did she see in you?"

"Just please act normal, ok? I don't want her to see me right now and…"

"Dean fucking Ambrose…"

Dean stared up at the ceiling. "The fuck did I do wrong in this life to piss you off?" He turned in his seat to face the last person he wanted to see: His ex wife, Renee Young-Ambrose. "Baby," Dean said with faux enthusiasm. "How's it going? You look… How've you been?"

"Fuck off, Dean," Renee snapped. "Why are you here? Looking for Kai? She ain't here. Shit, I'm surprised I didn't find you inside AJ. Or Kairi. Or Lacey."

"Yeah, still never cheated on you, but you…" Dean chuckled. "You keep telling yourself whatever you need to help you sleep at night."

"I will," Renee said. "Like how you fuck an Irish whore before bed to help you sleep."

"Are you just mad because she was a better lay than you?" Dean asked.

"Really?" Renee shook her head. "God, I don't know why I ever married an asshole like you. The second I was out the door she was in your pants… The ink wasn't even dry on our seperation forms yet."

Dashwood looked glanced at Ambrose; His eyes were red and tears were moments away from falling down his cheeks. For a moment, she actually felt sympathy for her partner.

"You let work get in the way of us," Renee opined. "And you bring another woman into our bed."

"Well I'm so fucking sorry I wanted justice for that little girl!" Ambrose finally shot back.

"Oh, boo fucking hoo, little Susie WhoGivesAFuck gets raped and killed by her father and big bad Dean Ambrose beats him half to death after he finds her body in an alley. Do your medals keep you warm at night?" Renee screamed.

Ambrose jumped from his stool and stormed for the door. His head ducked, Ambrose listened to the insults being thrown his way by his former love.

Once outside, Ambrose stopped walking. He took several deep breaths just to regain his composure, but it had little to no effect.

"You alright?" Dashwood's sudden appearance made Ambrose jump.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean chuckled through his tears. "I…. HATE that woman, so much… With a fiery disdain, I want to see her perish in the most painful way possible."

Dashwood sighed. "As much of a douche you are, I hate to see you in so much pain. How about we just focus on why we came here?"

"Hey, Bianca," Ambrose called over his shoulder. "You kill your boyfriend last night?"

Behind them, a dark skinned woman snickered. "Shit yeah, I did. Pussy hit me for the last time."

Dean nodded his head. "There ya go," he glanced down at Dashwood. "Case closed. Mojo hit B again, she got mad, iced his ass. B," he said over his shoulder again. "Patrolman will be here in an hour. Just tell him it was self defense. Won't go to a jury and I'll back you up, ok?"

"You got it, Dean," Bianca replied.

"Honestly," Dashwood said. "How are you not in prison?"

Ambrose chuckled. "I'm really fucking good at what I do. Right now, I want you to drive me home. Take the rest of the day off, Em. We'll meet tomorrow to finish the paperwork. Take Paige out or something. You earned it, kid."

"Does this make me a dirty cop as well?" Dashwood asked.

Ambrose shook his head. "Dirty? No. Crooked? No. Be a person of the people and they'll respect you. The second you become one of those cops rappers talk about wanting to shoot, you lose the respect of others and no one will want to work with you; Citizen or cop."

Dashwood shook her head. "You're some kind of mad genius."

Ambrose chuckled. "Yeah… Maybe."

* * *

Becky Lynch had fallen asleep shortly after Dean vacated the premises. Luckily, she wasn't needed at the station after all, so she had no reason to get dressed for the day.

Her dreams, in recent weeks, mostly starred Dean. She thought about the life they could live a lot, and she didn't mind seeing herself being his girlfriend. Dean just needed to agree to that.

Becky, beginning to stir from slumber, realized the stimulation of her genitals wasn't part of her dream. It was actually happening for real. She gasped, feeling her groin tighten as her climax came and went. As she struggled to catch her breath, Becky watched the man that occupied her dreams crawl further up the bed with a massive smile on his face.

"Damn," He muttered with a grin. "I tried to get you to come in you sleep."

"No such luck, boyo," Becky whispered. "Wha' brings ya home so soon?"

Dean gave the sultry Irishwoman a kiss on the lips. He traced her naked body with his fingertips, getting her to jump and giggle into his kiss.

"Needed to see my girlfriend," He said once they seperated. "Been a really long day, and I needed you."

Becky smiled broadly. "Girlfriend? Is t'at wha' ya wanted ta say t'is mornin'?"

Dean gave her a wink. "You know it, darlin'. I've had you on my mind most of the day. And I want you to be with me… Not just as a hook up every once in awhile anymore. I want the real thing."

Becky giggled. "Yeah? Good. Now I can sleep wit' ya an' no' feel guilty."

"That's one of the positives, babe," Dean cooed, adding another kiss to Becky's chin.


	10. Chapter 10

The scene was as grizzly as Eva Marie's. Graves knew he'd never get used to seeing bodies, no matter how many murders he investigated.

Flair finished talking to the patrolman that called the murder in. It happened behind a gas station the previous night. Same story, just a different body.

Graves stared down at the petite blonde woman. Her throat was cut deep just like the other victim. Her id was gone and, much to Paige's frustration, there was not a trace of DNA on her except the massive amount of blood around her body.

"Nothing at all?" Graves verified with Paige. "Not a single drop of DNA other than hers."

Paige shook her head. "No, nothing other than hers. You can tell there's some dried semen on her lips and chin, but other than that there's nothing but her own blood and hair. I'll run her autopsy and let you know if I find traces of anything else in her stomach."

Graves thanked the pathologist as Flair joined him. The tall blonde woman slowly shook her head and scoffed lightly.

"Patrolman says he checked in with the clerk," Flair told her partner. "Clerk was asleep in the office when it happened, he says, when the murder took place. He didn't check the security cams yet, so we'll have to when we question him. Just… poor fuckin' girl. She looks young; Can't be more than twenty-five. And she doesn't dress like a whore would. Blue jeans and a tank top? She's just… A regular looking girl."

Flair dropped to a knee beside the body. As a form of respect, Flair shut the girl's eyes for her. Graves found the gesture surprising with Flair's usual cold behavior, but he knew better than to bring it up.

Graves and Flair ventured into the gas station while the coroner's team loaded the body into the back of their van.

* * *

Much to his annoyance, Detective Ambrose was called in to have yet another meeting with internal affairs. That meant he had to leave Becky behind after just telling her he was willing to commit to her. But Becky herself was called in also to aid in a few tests the forensics team needed done. After giving her a ride and a quick kiss to the lips, Dean allowed himself to go separate ways from the orange haired Irishwoman.

Though he hated having to go to IA, Dean was looking forward to seeing the new girl again. Other than Becky, the short blonde woman occupied his thoughts most of the day. Her tight clothing and exquisite body still gave him a surge of arousal just thinking about it.

Molly Holly, the receptionist for the upstairs offices, rolled her eyes and shook her head disapprovingly when Detective Ambrose came into her line of sight.

"This is the fourth one in two weeks, detective," she him as she dialed the phone for IA.

"They should get me a punch card," Dean joked. "Fifth visit gets me a free sub at Matt Hardy's Sub Shop."

Molly nodded to Dean, signaling to him it was ok to go in.

Just like a few days prior, Ambrose entered the office to find the short blonde woman waiting for him. This time, she was typing at her computer. She was wearing smart looking glasses and her hair tied up in a tight bun; Ambrose found her glasses strangely sexy.

"Alexa, good to see you again," Ambrose said.

"Take a seat, detective," Alexa told him without looking away from her computer. Her tone was not as cheery as it had been when they first met, but Dean figured that was because of whatever she was working on.

Ambrose took the seat in front of her desk that had unofficially became known as his chair.

"So, what did I do to get sent to the principal's office this time?" He asked.

Alexa turned away from her computer. She took of her glasses; Dean felt his stomach do a flip when her bright blue eyes focused on his. His eyes wandered down to her chest, grinning as he took in the slight cleavage she showed off. Maybe if he wasn't in too much trouble, she would show him more.

"Why do you insist on pushing my buttons, detective?" Alexa asked.

Dean did a double take, looking at her eyes, then her chest, then her eyes again when he realized it was a serious question.

"What?" He asked, both not understanding her approach and caught off guard by the seriousness in her voice.

"I have…" Alexa lifted a sheet of paper. "Several reports from Suplex City saying that you destroyed a wooden door."

Dean shook his head slowly. "You… What?"

"Paul Heyman, owner of Suplex City, called the non-emergency hotline a few hours ago to report you kicking down the door that led to his office," Alexa set the piece of paper back down and relocked her icy gaze with Ambrose. "Why on Earth would you think kicking a door down is acceptable?"

Dean, thinking quick on his feet, nodded his head. "He wouldn't open the door. I told him 'polic business, I need to speak to you', he refused, told me to 'eff off', then I kicked it in and…" He paused, noticing that Alexa was jotting down what he was saying; She looked up at him and cocked her eyebrow. Dean continued. "Had a talk with him about the Mojo Rawley murder that took place."

"Which was later closed as an act of self defense by the victims girlfriend," Alexa said, looking at another report. "When she was questioned, she said that you knew what kind of abuse she was going through but you didn't approach Mojo about it because she didn't want to press charges, then she was, quote, 'sent over the edge when he smacked her again', end quote, and she killed him."

Dean sighed. "Yep."

Alexa sighed. She folded her hands on top of her desk and leaned forward. Dean noticed, besides her breasts pushing together to show off more mouth watering cleavage, that she wasn't wearing a ring on her left hand. A supposed engaged IA woman not wearing a ring in a station full of men that haven't slept with their wives or girlfriends in weeks? That was asking for trouble… Or she was going through a bad break up. Dean wasn't sure what he was more worried about: Her feeling any kind of pain or feeling worry for something that wasn't his car.

"I know you've heard this a million times before, detective," Alexa said, this time in a far calmer tone. "But you cannot use your badge as an excuse to do whatever you want. Now, Heyman refusing to let you in is one thing, but you didn't have a warrant and damage was caused to the property. Heyman isn't pressing charges, neither are any of the employees, but you need to understand that your luck will eventually run out."

Dean nodded his head. "Ok. I understand. Is that everything?"

Alexa nodded her head.

"Ok," Dean stood up. He opened the door to leave her office, but he paused in the doorway. "Just so you know, Miss Bliss, I'm sorry about your fiance. He's a shithead for whatever he did. He doesn't deserve a woman like you."

Alexa, taken off guard by what he said, glanced down at her bare ring finger. When she looked up, Ambrose was walking down the hall and her office door shut behind him.

* * *

In the basement of Stamford City Hospital once again, Graves and Flair returned to hear the autopsy results from the latest victim Stamford had to offer.

"What do you got?" Graves asked Paige.

Paige sighed. "Well, other than a cut throat and blood loss, the only thing I found out of the ordinary was the semen in her stomach and vagina, as well as the amount of alcohol in her system."

"So she was drunk?" Flair asked.

Paige shook her head. "I wouldn't say so. One or two beers maximum, not enough to intoxicate the young woman. Don't know what she was doing out by a gas station though."

"Us either," Graves added. "The camera on the back door saw her stumble into the wall before falling over and bleeding out, but… Nothing after that."

Paige picked up a clear plastic bag. "I did find her student id," she handed the bag to Graves. "Liv Morgan, from the looks of it."

"Student id? She goes to SU?" Graves checked the student id. The piece of plastic had the local college's logo and mascot on it. Below the girls' picture was her birthday and year in school. Graves shook his head. "She was a sophomore. Nineteen."

"So she wasn't a hooker like Eva," Flair confirmed. "She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our killer thought she was on the prowl, and killed her."

Paige nodded. "Seems to be the most likely explanation."

Graves stepped aside as his cell phone started ringing.

"Detective, may I ask a question?" Paige asked Flair.

"Shoot," Flair responded.

"What is that symbol tattooed on her arm?" Paige pointed at a line of Greek letters on the girls' arm.

"Oh, her sorority," Flair said. "Delta Xi Alpha, from the looks of it."

"We gotta go," Graves said from across the room.

"Why?" Flair questioned.

"Twenty two year old Brit just came into the station looking for Liv Morgan," Graves said.

Wasting no more time, Flair followed her partner out of the morgue and up to the parking lot.


	11. Chapter 11

It was a rather peculiar situation for Graves and Flair. Seated inside interview room three was a young, English man with sandy blonde hair and a fear of God in his eyes. Could this be their killer? The possibility crossed Graves mind every time the young man glanced at the two way mirror dividing him from the small office Graves and Flair were watching him from.

"What do you think?" Graves asked his partner.

Flair shook her head slowly. "I don't know if this kid is the killer. I mean, why would he go through all the trouble of going home, cleaning up, then coming here? If it was a guilt thing, he'd still be covered in her blood and this case would be closed."

"Sociopath?" Graves suggested.

"That guy?" Charlotte gestured at the man seated at the metallic table in the other room. "He's terrified. If he's supposed to mimic human emotion, then I'll hand him the Oscar myself."

Graves folded his arms across his chest. It seemed all too coincidental that this person walked into the station looking for the girl that was slain the night before, just as he and Flair were looking for the killer. Maybe he wasn't, and was just a good friend of the girl. Graves slowly exhaled through his nose. Then again, he'd made that mistake before and wasn't about to let that happen.

"Let's ask him a few questions," Graves told Flair.

Flair nodded her head. "Agreed. We've let the poor guy sweat long enough."

Corey and Charlotte took a step out into the hallway to make the quick transtition to the interview room.

"Good cop or bad cop?" Graves asked.

Flair rolled her eyes. "Don't be a fucking smart-ass, Graves."

With a quick chuckle, Corey opened the door to the enclosed cement room.

"Good morning," the man greeted the officers in a thick British accent.

Graves and Flair shared a look, taken off guard by the young man's manners despite his situation.

"Morning," both detectives replied.

Graves took a seat at the table across from the man. Flair remained standing near the door.

"What's your name?" Graves asked.

"Tyler, sir, Tyler Bate," the man responded, eyeing Flair nervously as he spoke.

"And how do you know Liv Morgan?" Corey asked.

"She's... Uh, t-technically my girlfriend," Tyler replied, shaking visibly slightly. "She... We got in a fight right before she took off. That's why I came here. I thought the police picked her up because she'd been drinking, ya know? Just thought I'd be on the safe side."

"You two were fighting?" Flair asked.

Tyler nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We had an argument, then she said she was heading down to the gas station for some gum... Then she didn't come home."

"An argument about what?" Graves asked.

Bate chuckled nervously. "It's not really appropriate, detective."

Flair, annoyed by the slight hesitation, cut in as Tyler finished his sentence. "Mr Bate I assure you there isn't much you can tell us that will shock us."

Tyler sighed. "I... Released, inside her."

Graves cocked an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

Tyler shook his head. "I didn't have a condom and... She didn't want me to, ya know. But I did. We argued, she stormed off, and now I'm here. She's ok, right? I couldn't live with myself if I let her leave and something happened to her."

Graves looked back at Flair, then turned back to Bate. "Do you know that last time you saw her?"

"About two am, I'd say," Tyler recalled. "She said she'd be right back. She was still pretty upset. Where is she? If you'd let me, I'd like to speak to her so I can apologize. It's not right to keep things bitter with people you care about."

Flair made eye contact with Graves again. Telling this kid his girlfriend was dead was going to be hard. It was always one of the hardest things about this line of work; Telling someone their loved ones have passed was never something they looked forward to.

Flair cleared her throat. "We found Liv this morning behind the gas station. She was killed sometime late last night."

Both detectives could see Tyler's heart break from the look in his eyes. It quickly went from hopeful, to completely destroyed in a matter a seconds. The Brit dropped his head in his hands, lightly rubbing at his eyes with his fingertips.

Graves shamelessly turned his head away, knowing that he would start tearing up if he looked at the younger man any longer. Flair felt herself feel pain for Tyler too, but she remembered this could also be a show to cover for what he did.

"How... How did she die?" Tyler asked, voice broken and eyes bright red with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Her throat was cut," Graves explained. "She died from blood loss soon after."

Tyler's heart broken expression shifted to disbelief.

"W-Who would hurt that gentle girl like that?" He asked, looking at both detectives for an answer, as if the had one. "Olivia never hurt a fly. She was a sweet girl. She's attending university at SU. Her... Her laugh always made me smile..."

"That's the thing, Tyler, we don't know who did this," Corey explained. "That's why we need you to tell us anything you might know about what could've happened to her. Was she with anyone? Did she say she was going anywhere else? What were you two doing before she left?"

"We were just having fun, same as always," Tyler began. "We had sex. She got mad at me, then left for the gas station. My apartment is right up the alley that runs behind that place. I told her not to use the alley when she was alone... I always had a bad feeling about it."

Graves nodded his head. "Do you have someone you can call? Liv's parents maybe?"

"She lived with her grandmother before moving in with me," Tyler explained. "I suppose I have to speak to her then."

Graves thanked Tyler for his time and apologized for his loss. He stepped out into the hallway with Flair at his side. The two detectives started heading for the elevator.

"What's your take?" Flair asked, pressing the button for the second floor.

"Kid seems like he's innocent enough," Graves admitted. "But... We let that last fuck go because-"

"You can't keep blaming yourself for that," Charlotte cut in. "Graves, you couldn't have known Candice's killer was her husband. He played the same game Tyler is right now and we had no evidence to pin anything on him. You need to learn to let things go."

Graves shook his head. "The second we find one thing on this guy-"

"Then I'll happily flip the switch with you," Charlotte assured. "But we don't know if it was him. It could be. Lovers spat turned sour. It happens all the time in this God damned city."

The elevator stopped on the second floor. Graves and Flair took the required journey to their office down the hall.

"I just have no idea who could be behind all this." Graves openly admitted with a head shake.

"Neither do I, Graves," Flair agreed. "But you and I both know we'll catch this fuck sooner or later."

* * *

The following morning started off pleasantly well for Dean Ambrose. Monday's typically were the Bane of his existence, but waking up with the orange haired scientist curled up under his arm made his shitty day a lot better right off the bat.

Since closing his case the previous day, and a meeting with IA on what was supposed to be Miss Bliss's day off, there was undoubtedly a huge stack of paperwork sitting next to the the already colossal size of unfinished work Dena had yet to get the jump on yet. On top of all that, Dean's knee had been acting up again last night after going weeks without an incident.

"Fuck," Dean muttered, extending his knee as far as he could before curling back under himself.

"You alright, lad?" Becky muttered, eyes still closed tightly from her slumber.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ambrose replied, pressing his lips gently against the Irishwoman's eyebrow. "Damn bum knee's acting up again. Gonna be the death of me if I don't get it checked out."

"How'd ya hurt it?" Becky asked, peaking one of her eyes open to gaze at the man holding her against his chest.

"Football back in college," Dean groaned as he shifted his leg again. "It's fine. Just acts up every now and again. It'd be nice if you rubbed it for me."

Becky chuckled, rolling her eyes and sitting up. "Yeah, I suppose I could. I's what girlfriends do for t'eir boyfriends, right?"

Dean smirked. "Damn straight, darlin'."

The tired detective set his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Becky lightly dragged the tips of her fingernails over Dean's midsection, making him jump slightly and grow goosebumps over his arms.

"Feel nice?" Becky asked.

Dean nodded his head. "Sure does. How about the leg?"

Becky giggled. "Aye."

Dean felt his girlfriend's hands slid down his legs to mid-thigh. But instead of stopping at his knee, her hand gripped a part of him that rested between his legs. He snickered under his breath, feeling her hands massage the organ she quite clearly liked very much.

"That's not my leg," Dean joked, flashing Becky a smirk as he peaked his eyes in her direction.

Becky matched his smile. "Yeah? Yer complainin'?"

Dean shook his head. "No, ma'am."

Ambrose let his eyes scan every inch of the nude woman sitting on her feet next to his prone body. She really was a sight to be told. Her natural beauty in the early morning sun made more than just his blood rush south and make parts of him swell. But it also made him feel like there was something more than agreeing to be official just so she stopped asking about it. Just as he was about to put a name to the idea, his lower abdomen tightened and a light groan escaped his lips.

"There ya are," Becky cooed in a hushed tone. "Not a bad way to start of Monday mornin', huh?"

Dean chuckled. "I'd love it if we started every morning off like this."

After Becky took the time to clean her hands off with some paper towel lying on the floor near Dean's bed, the Irish beauty gave him a kiss to the lips.

"Did Detective Reigns tell ya abou' ta grand openin' for the new court house?" Becky asked.

Dean tutted his tongue. "Tell me about it? He won't shut up about how it's required I attend. Everyone, including you science nerds, have to show up to some bullshit party being thrown by the mayor because this new courthouse is supposed to, quote unquote, 'stop evil doers from committing evil'."

Becky giggled. "It might. Ya never know."

"Yeah, but then I'd be out of a job," Dean rolled to his side to face Becky. "Then you'd have to support my ass while I looked for another job."

"I could take care of ya," Becky leaned in for a kiss. As her lips touched Ambrose's, his calloused hand slipped between her thighs and gently caressed her. "Oh, lad, what are ya up to?"

Dean smirked. "Takin' care of you, darlin'. Plus, the more time we spend in bed, the less time I have to be at the station."

Becky moaned hungrily, digging her fingernails into Dean's bare thigh. She kissed his lips, a little extra force behind it, and swung her legs over his waist.

* * *

"JOHN!"

Graves sat up, sweat soaking his shirt a pillowcase as the nightmare dissipated from his field of vision and his bedroom came back to view.

Another nightmare about the events of over a year ago plagued his thoughts during the night. Nothing was ever going to keep the nightmares from returning as long as Graves was still breathing. If only letting go was as simple as Flair made it out to be.

Corey got dressed and entered the living room just as Nikki opened the front door and his partner and her fiance walked into his home. Charlotte was dressed in her usual black dress pants, dark blue crew neck t-shirt, and black jacket but her fiance was dressed like she was late for her part in a children's cartoon show.

"Mornin', guys," Graves greeted the room, being met by similar greetings and the excited cries of his nephew. "All set, Charlotte?"

Charlotte nodded her head. "I am. Bayley is babysitting for Nicole this morning, so I'm sure the house will be on fire by the time we get to Stamford."

"Hush now," Bayley playfully chastised as she lifted JJ into her arms. "I am a wonderful caregiver for young children, thank you very much. I am going to be a very good mother one day."

Graves caught the bashful smile Flair made when her soon-to-be wife said that. He didn't say anything about it at that moment, but it was definitely something he was going to give her a hard time for later on.

"What are you up to?" Corey asked his step-sister.

"I am going to go back to bed for a little while," Nikki chuckled. "Then, I have some errands to run. Hopefully you're ok with watching JJ for most of the day, Bayley?"

Bayley had already managed to make it to JJ's toys and started playing with him before either of the other three adults noticed.

"Absolutely, Nikki, I won't mind watching JJ while you get some extra rest," Bayley insisted with a bright smile. "I can't imagine what kind of strength it takes to be a mom. Hopefully, I have the same when I get to have one."

Again, Corey caught Charlotte trying to hide a bright smile for what her fiance was saying. She caught him looking, rolled her eyes, and crossed the room to kiss Bayley goodbye before heading back out the door.

Corey left his home after saying farewell to everyone else that was left. Charlotte was already in the passenger seat when he got in his car.

"I don't want to hear it," Charlotte said, glancing out the window.

"What?" Graves asked.

"The stupid smile I do whenever Bayley speaks," Charlotte flipped her sunglasses over her eyes and turned to face Graves. "She's going to be my wife. I have a right to think she's adorable."

Graves snickered. "It's all good, Flair. I think she's adorable too. She's gonna be a great mom someday. I'm serious."

Charlotte cracked a smile, but again tried hiding it. "Fuck off, Graves. Now, how about we get to solving this fuckin' murder already, huh?"

"Shit yeah," Graves agreed, quickly pulling out onto the street and heading for the city limits.


	12. Chapter 12

Detective Graces's set-up reminded him of the old crime-drama shows he used to watch as a kid. A cliche cork board hung in the office of the homicide unit with a few pictures and notes both he and Flair had taken the last couple of days regarding the pair of murders that had taken place.

"Well, if effort was part of the grade, I'd give you an 'A'," Captain Reigns commented, leaning against one of the desks with a fresh coffee in his hand.

Graves took a step away from the bulletin board, sheepish smile on his face. "I've always wanted to do this, Cap," he admitted.

The rest of the homicide unit surrounded Graves and Flair; Captain Reigns sent out a text to everyone shortly before to tell them to meet for Graves briefing of what he found so far. All were present, except the ever tardy Detective Dean Ambrose.

"Should I start without Dean, sir?" Graves asked his superior.

Reigns shook his head. "Goddamn, Ambrose. Yes, get started. If he shows up, he shows up."

Graves cleared his throat. He shot Flair a quick look; They each nodded, signaling to each other everything was ready to go for their presentation.

"So," Graves began after he cleared his throat. "Two murders took place over the weekend; One of them was a woman in her late twenties, the other a college student, age nineteen. Both of them were slain in similar fashions: throat cut almost all the way through, massive blood loss, id's stolen, and no other trace of DNA on them," Graves gestured at two crime scene photos on the board behind him. "Other then, of course, semen. Both died late into the night, between midnight and three am, but the first victim was found inside a dumpster behind Murphy's bar. The second was found outside Pete Gas Station a few blocks from said bar." Graves took a step to the side to show the other side of the board.

Flair took off from where Graves left off. "So far, we have reason to believe three people may be in someway connected to the murders. Firstly, Buddy Murphy, owner of Murphy's Bar. He was last seen with the first victim shortly before her death. He was paying her for sexual favors, recording them, then selling them to pornographic websites."

"Sounds like my kind of party," Detective Ambrose interrupted, walking into the office for the first time that Monday morning.

Charlotte's lips tightened into a firm line. "Ambrose, so good of you to finally join us. Too busy getting rid of evidence?"

The other detectives snickered at the comment. Ambrose chuckled himself, adding a slow head shake as he did.

"Naw, I was spreading my DNA in some Irish coffee, if you catch my drift," he replied coolly.

Flair shook her head. "I don't under-"

"I was fucking Becky from forensics, you happy?" Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Anyway, continue with your school project."

Flair shook her head, but instead of stooping herself to Dean's level, she turned back to the cork board.

"Secondly we have the second victim's boyfriend, Tyler Bate," Charlotte explained. "He told us that he and the victim got into an argument shortly before she was murdered. However, he has a solid alibi from his roommate, Trent Seven, saying he didn't leave after the victim left," Charlotte gestured at the final head shot on the board. "Lastly, Pete Gas, owner of the gas station we found the second victim behind. He was asleep in his office during the time of the murder; Camera footage solidifies that claim."

"Finally, we have pathology reports saying each victim died from the same type of blade," Graves announced. "Whether or not if it was the exact same blade is unknown What we do know is, they were both killed almost exactly the same way. The first murder being different because the woman was found inside a dumpster. But, we have reason to believe it's the same person going after the same kind of type of person: Young woman, early to late twenties, revealing clothing, and moments after engaging in relations with a male."

"With a male?" Ambrose echoed.

"Hence the semen found in their stomachs," Flair added, a little extra zap behind her words.

"Have any arrests been made?" Detective Dallas chimed in.

Graves shook his head. "Not at the moment."

"Why not?" Ambrose asked.

"We... Uh, have no reason to connect any of these men to the crime, other than mild association with the victims. There would be no logical reason for Murphy to be on that side of town and there is no video evidence from the night of the first murder to pin anything on Bate. So far, we have almost nothing to go on."

Ambrose scanned the room quickly, exchanging looks with the other detectives. "So, why are we having this meeting?"

"Captain wanted us to brief you on what we have so far," Flair said.

"Which is almost nothing." Ambrose clarified.

Flair nodded her head slowly. "Basically."

"What kind of blade was it?" Detective Axel asked.

"Toothed; Most likely a saw of some kind," Flair confirmed.

"How the hell can the killer know either of the women just had sex?" Detective Dashwood asked.

"Dude scouts out his victims first," Ambrose answered. "Finds the one he wants, sluts in this case, and waits for them to be vulnerable. The first one was stepping outside to have a smoke and the kid was heading down a dark alley. Both had belly's full of cum and weren't afraid to flaunt their shit and he decided to take them."

Graves nodded his head. "That's right. Good work, Dean."

Ambrose shrugged his shoulders but, in an act that surprised his co-workers, didn't add a snarky comment to go with it.

"So now we just wait for another murder to happen?" Dallas asked.

"Or for a witness to step forward. Or for pathology to find somthing else," Flair turned to Reigns. "Paige says she is working hard on finding traces of anything else in both victim's stomach acid."

Reigns nodded his head. "Ok, good. Good work so far. But we aren't done until this s.o.b. is in prison. Ok? Dallas and Axel, as you were. Dashwood, I still need to speak to you. And Dean?"

Ambrose smirked. "Yeah, Ro?"

"IA would like to see you." Reigns said.

Ambrose scoffed. "For what? I just got here."

Reigns waved his phone in the air. "Sent her an email about your relationship with Becky from forensics. How about we be on time to meetings next time, huh?"

Ambrose shook his head. "If you hadn't hit a growth spurt in high school, I'd kick your ass right now."

Reigns, Flair, and Graves shared a laugh as Ambrose threw a half-serious middle finger over his shoulder when he stepped out of the office.

"You both are doing good work," Reigns told Flair and Graves. "Stay on top of this. We need to catch this guy, ok?"

"Yes, sir," Flair and Graves both said.

Reigns dismissed himself and returned to his office.

"Diamond Cutter's?" Graves asked Flair. "Go over our notes, have some breakfast. Figure this shit out."

Flair nodded her head. "Yeah, that sounds fine. Let me call Bay quick; My phone was vibrating the entire fucking presentation."

"Aww, I bet she wanted to show you the block tower she made with JJ," Graves chuckled, laughing a little harder when Flair gave him the finger and pulled out her phone.

* * *

For the third time in four days, Detective Ambrose ventured to the third floor to meet with the new internal affairs lady. This time would be interesting, since Dean never had to meet with IA about work relationships before.

"Detective Ambrose for-"

"Yeah, yeah, you know the drill," Miss Holly waved Ambrose ahead when he approached her desk.

Ambrose chuckled. "Wow, I feel crushed, Molly. I really thought we had something special."

Molly cracked half a smile. "If you can go a month without a trip up here, I'll buy you dinner."

Ambrose chuckled dryly. "No way that's happening. Thanks anyway, Molly."

Molly waved her hand again, showing Dean the way to the office he might as well start paying rent, he'd been there so many times. Ambrose popped open the door, ready for the hateful glare of the newest woman in his life to hate him.

The newest member of the Stamford City Police Department glanced up from her paperwork. He smart glasses rested on her nose and her stunning light blue eyes gave off a hint of frustration with Dean's presence. He did admit her more conservative outfit of a black jacket buttoned up with a black blouse underneath that showed no cleavage was a nice change and, for better or worse, she once again wasn't wearing her diamond ring on her left hand.

"Detective," the small woman said sharply.

"Miss," Ambrose addressed the woman, sitting across from her desk in his unofficially reserved seat.

Alexa removed her glasses. She took a moment to rub her eyes and, from the looks of it, it was on account of being annoyed.

"Why do you insist on pushing my buttons, Detective?" She asked, folding her hands on the top of her desk and making eye contact with Ambrose.

Ambrose bit his tongue to silence a snicker. "It's not my intentions, miss," he said.

"Ok..." Alexa typed a few things on her desktop computer. "Then why did Captain Reigns, Head of Homicide, email me very recently with a complaint about something you said?"

Ambrose shrugged. "Dunno." He muttered.

"So you didn't say, quote, 'I was spreading my DNA in an Irish coffee'. Then when asked to elaborate, you said, 'I was... 'effing' Becky from forensics.' You do realize there's no record of you filing for a relationship notice? You understand I can suspend you for this?"

Dean scoffed. "That's such bullshit. Dashwood's fucking the pathologist, and she isn't getting in any trouble."

"Language, Detective," Alexa warned. "Secondly, Miss Knight works for the hospital. Detective Dashwood does not need to tell me she's dating someone who doesn't work for Stamford Police."

Dean shook his head. "Fine, whatever," he grumbled. "What do I need to do? Fill out a form that says I get my dick wet in my spare time?"

Alexa closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. "Yes, you need to have yourself and Rebecca Lynch fill out a relationship form. It should only take a few minutes."

Miss Bliss handed Dean a piece of paper, to which he took with an eye roll.

"Thank you, Detective," Alexa said. "Now, please refrain from using foul language in my office. I do not appreciate it."

Ambrose shook his head. "Fine. I apologize. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"You still haven't filled out your paperwork regarding your last visit to my office," Alexa said. "When will you have that finished?"

"Is this about what I said the other day?" Ambrose asked. "The thing about your sleazy ex-fiance? Because I wasn't trying to intrude, ok? I honestly think you deserve someone better than a guy who rents hookers, films it, then posts it on the internet."

Alexa sighed. "Detective, please do not bring up my personal life in the office. What happens in my own time is my business and my business alone."

"I know, and I respect that. I'm just saying you deserve a nice guy." Ambrose said.

"And you think that person is you?" Alexa asked.

Dean snickered. "You kidding me? I'm a piece of sh... Trash. Read my file; It's all there. I'm just saying you're way too nice to settle for losers like the other guy."

Alexa's lips lifted into a small smile. "I appreciate that, Detective. Thank you, for the compliment."

Dean gave her a wink, following it up with a smirk. "Anything else, Miss Bliss?"

"Fill out the form and hand it back to me by this Saturday, preferably before the court house opening," She said, smile still on her face.

Ambrose nodded once. "Yes, ma'am. By the way, love your ear piercings. I don't know a lot of suits that have cartilage piercings."

Alexa's small smile grew a little bigger, though not a full grin yet. "Thank you, Detective."

After a firm, yet gentle, handshake, Ambrose dismissed himself from the IA office, grin crossing his face and betraying how he now felt about the woman who is supposed to be his mortal enemy.

* * *

Later that day, Graves returned home with his partner following close behind. In the living room sat Nikki, her twin sister Brie and her husband Daniel, and Bayley sat crossed legged on the floor with JJ sitting in her lap and a copy of _Green Eggs and Ham_ in her hands while she read to him.

"Hey, guys," Corey greeted the room.

"Ugh, you're back?" Bayley groaned. "I was just getting to the good part."

"Good to see you too, baby," Charlotte chuckled with an eye roll. "Come on, you gotta give JJ back to his mama."

"Well, actually, you can watch him for a little while longer, if you want," Nikki spoke up. "Brie and I were just discussing talking you into taking him for a little bit so we can go out for a drink. I'll pay you for your troubles."

Charlotte began to agree, but Bayley jumped in. "No need! I can babysit for free, no problem." The energetic woman exclaimed, not noticing the eye roll from her lover.

"Great, sounds good," Nikki looked at her step-brother. "Roman texted and said you were supposed to head out with the guys?"

Graves shrugged. "Yeah, but I was gonna call it an early night, ya know? It's been a long day-"

"No, you're going out," Nikki ordered with a smile. "You could use a beer," she turned back to Bayley. "I won't be out late; Midnight at the latest, ok?"

Bayley nodded her head. "Absolutely ok!" She looked down at JJ. "C'mon, let's show Charlotte your favorite toys."

Charlotte groaned. "Wish me luck? I'm gonna need it." She told Graves.

"Nah, you'll be fine," her partner replied. "Worst case scenario, Bayley decides to keep JJ and we have to wrestle him from her. You'll be fine, Charlotte."

Charlotte said goodbye to her partner, then made her way into the living room. Graves returned to his car, wished his step-sisters and step-brother-in-law safe travels, then hopped in his Impala and began his drive back to Stamford.

* * *

King's Landing, since Murphy's would be inappropriate at the moment, is the bar the homicide unit decided on for that night. Graves, Ambrose, Reigns, and even Dashwood sat around a table drinking beer and shooting the breeze. A little while after Graves arrived, their old friend Seth Rollins made his presence known. He had been a patrolman at one point, much like everyone else, but he transferred to forensics instead of being promoted to detective.

"Shit, it's good to see you, Seth," Ambrose said to his friend. "I feel like we barely have time to talk anymore. You and your fuckin' nerd buddies trying to find hair in blood or spit in jizz, it's just odd."

"That so, boyo?" Becky chuckled, having returned from the restroom.

Dean muttered something incoherently under his breath and pecked Becky on the lips. She offered to buy the next round, and left for the bar.

Captain Reigns chuckled at Ambrose, who was staring at Becky's posterior as she walked away. "You really committed, huh?"

Dean shrugged. "Bound to happen sometime, right?"

"Not you, man," Graves said. "You were never supposed to settle down with anyone. Then you got married, then divorced, now you got a new girlfriend."

"Hey, being a boyfriend is a lot like being married, ok?" Dean said in his defense.

"Does she wake you up with head and let's you cum anywhere you want?" Reigns asked.

Dean nodded his head. "Yup, pretty much."

"Then it's nothing like being married," Reigns said, getting a laugh all around.

"Yeah, but I would know, wouldn't I? Jackass," Ambrose punched Reigns in the shoulder to show he was playing along with the jokes.

"Anymore room for an old friend?" Detective Dana Brooke, assistant head of Vice, approached the table to a small cheer from the others.

"Shit, Brooke it's been a while," Graves said, giving the short buxom woman a hug. "Where'd they got you now?"

"Vice, second in command," Brooke clarified. "Captain Hart is about to step-down and retire, so I'll be taking his place very shortly."

"Congratulations," said a few of the detectives.

Dean nodded his head in Dana's direction. "Hey, Brooke, how's things-"

"Not a snowball's chance in Hell, Ambrose," she cut in, to a few laughs from the others. "I'm a committed woman now, in case you forgot."

Dean shook his head. "No worries, just making small talk. How is the old ball and chain?"

"Zack's doing fine," she confirmed. "Just about to open his fourth gym in Greenwich."

"Did he really give you a promise ring?" Dashwood asked.

Dana showcased the ring on her left hand. "Yep. He promises he'll propose for real, once his business gets settled."

Becky soon returned with a tray of beers. She had seen Dana arrive and ordered one extra for her.

For the next few hours, the detectives took turns telling stories and making jokes. Dean stayed close to Becky's side most of the night, arm secured tightly around her waist. Graves, from what he could see at least, was the alluring gazes he continuously caught from Brooke every so often; He decided to put an early end to his drinking after realizing she was in fact checking him out.

"Well, fuck, I best be gettin' home," Ambrose announced shortly before eleven. "Ol' red here has to get to bed or she'll be late for work, because you nerds have a schedule and shit."

Becky feigned offense with an eye roll, but pecked Dean on the cheek. Ambrose said goodbye to the group a moment after and left the bar. Reigns was the next to go, saying his wife would have his head if he was home later than eleven. Dashwood ventured to the other side of the bar where Paige was chatting with a few people. Rollins bid a farewell to Brooke and Graves and headed out too.

"So," Dana cooed, tracing her index finger down the length of Corey's arm. "Just the two of us."

"You're committed, Dana," Corey reminded the woman. "I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

Graves exited the bar for his prized Impala. He slid into the driver's seat and nearly jumped out of his skin when Brooke slid into the car next to him.

"Jesus, Dana," Graves muttered.

"I'm not putting the moves on you, Corey. I need a ride home." Brooke clarified. "Zack isn't answering his phone, which means he's probably asleep."

Corey nodded his head. "Alright, but nothing stupid, ok? I got a lot on my mind as is."

Dana nodded her head. "Sure. No worries, Graves."

And the drive to Dana's home was just that; No funny business happened the entire way. Graves was really proud of himself for resisting the urge to go home with Brooke. His pride did die soon after when he found himself in Dana's driveway, hand full of her bleach blonde hair, while her head bobbed in his lap.

"Fuck," Graves muttered under his breath.

Brooke sat back, brushing her hair out of her face and swallowing hard. "Thanks for the ride, Graves." She thanked with a wink.

"Just remember the five dollars next time," Graves asked.

"You would prefer that over my other form of payment?" Dana asked.

Graves shook his head. "I don't do relationships. You of all people know that."

Brooke shrugged. "Well, thanks anyway. See you tomorrow, Graves."

Graves wished his high school and college on again, off again sweetheart a goodnight. When he witnessed her enter her home, he pulled out of the driveway and headed for the city limits.

* * *

Dean and Becky were in a similar situation. Dean, reading over the form given to him by Alexa Bliss, held Becky close under the covers in their post coital state.

"'What department are you and your partner in'?" Dean chuckled. "Uh, murder and nerd."

Becky swatted Dean's chest, but kissed the spot she hit right after.

"Question two: 'When did this relationship begin'? Fuck, do we say one year?" Dean asked.

Becky nodded. "Be honest, lad. No 'arm can come from that."

Dean filled out the answer like Becky wanted. "Question three: 'How regular to you perform oral sex on each other'?"

Becky sat up. "It does not say that," she grabbed for the paper, but Dean caught her and brought her against his chest.

"I made that one up," Dean admitted, kissing Becky on the lips.

"Aye, I know," Becky said, returning Dean's kiss.

* * *

Graves walked up the front path to his home. He unlocked the front door, threw on the light, then recoiled in surprise when his partner jumped off the couch, hair in a frizzled mess.

"Graves!" Flair announced.

Corey saw Bayley peek her face over the edge of the couch while, from his perspective, tried to discreetly put her shirt back on.

Graves chuckled when the two ladies began to leave. "You didn't get her pregnant on my couch, right?" He jokingly asked Charlotte.

She threw him a dirty looked as she passed; Bayley refused to make eye contact, but thanked him for letting her watch JJ.

After a final lock and alarm check, and making sure JJ and Nikki were safe in their beds, Graves allowed himself to go to bed as well. As he undressed for slumber, he glanced out his bedroom window that faced the front yard. Standing in the road, facing the house, was a silhouette of a person. Graves, heart skipping a beat, grabbed for his gun and clicked the safety off. When he returned to the window, the figure was gone. Graves, paranoia setting in, did three more lock and alarm checks before forcing himself into an uneasy sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

The entirety of Stamford's police department arrived for the opening of the brand new court house. A lot of people thought it was a pain in the ass to have to attend, but it was necessary to show respect to the people who donated money to make the construction possible.

One of the men that found this party a waste of a Saturday was Detective Dean Ambrose. He arrived a half hour late, hoping the party would be in full swing when he got there, but he must've gotten the time wrong because he and Becky were one of the first people to arrive.

"Fuck," Ambrose muttered upon seeing the lack of uniformed men and women in the massive conference room of the new courthouse.

"Meh, could be worse," Becky told her date.

"And how's that?" Ambrose asked.

"You could be 'ere without a date," Becky told Dean with a small grin.

Ambrose gave the Irishwoman maybe the two hundredth once over that night. Her black, single shoulder dress gave emphasis to her fiery orange hair and made it look like her head was actually on fire. Her makeup was touched up with dark eye shadow and cherry lip gloss that had the smallest hint of glitter. Ambrose fought his primitive instincts not to pounce the beautiful woman when he arrived to pick her up from her home.

"You look beautiful, Beck," Ambrose praised with a smirk. "Seriously. You're... breathtaking.

Becky smiled warmly. "Yeah? Well, you make a very han'some date."

Ambrose glanced at his formal police uniform, in which he is required to wear during events like this.

"I hate wearing this freaking thing," Dean said with a chuckle. "But, if I don't, I have to deal with the mean ol' IA lady more than normal."

As Ambrose said that, he caught sight of Alexa Bliss chatting with Vice Captain Bret Hart and soon-to-be Captain Dana Brooke. The tiny IA representative bore a dark red halter dress that matched the red highlights at the ends of her hair. Her hair was down, which was the first time Ambrose had seen it like that. She glanced his direction for a moment, or maybe she was scanning the room, but she didn't show any attention towards her "favorite" detective.

Ambrose looked back at his date. "Do you want a drink?"

Becky nodded. "I was jus' abou' ta ask ya ta same thin. T'ose glasses of champagne 'ave been callin' to me."

Dean kissed Becky on the top of her head. "How about you go find us a seat and I'll get us some champagne?"

Becky agreed; She pecked Ambrose on the lips before parting from him to find them a seat.

Ambrose turned for the refreshments table. Standing near it, now seeing the troublesome detective for the first time that night, was Alexa Bliss. Ambrose flashed her a smirk, to which she slowly shook her head and turned towards the large alcohol display.

"Miss Bliss, fancy seeing you here," Ambrose addressed the short woman. "I suppose this is a rare time we get to see each other and you don't have to scold me for my behavior."

"I still may, detective," Alexa replied without looking at Dean. "The night is still young."

Dean chuckled. "Well, a few glasses of this champagne and we'll have a Label Five officer offense on our hands."

Alexa finally made eye contact with Dean. Ambrose felt himself swallow hard and a certain part of his anatomy twitch as her sparkling blue eyes locked with his.

"I will be very upset if you force me to deal with a Label Five in my first month with Stamford PD, detective," Alexa warned.

"Hey, I'm just making conversation," Ambrose said, shit eating smirk across his face. "Sarcastic humor is my strong suit."

Alexa cocked an eyebrow. "Mmmhmm, I've noticed," she lifted a glass of sparkling champagne from the table. "Have a good evening, detective. I'm sure I'll be hearing from you again tonight."

"Guaranteed," he replied, giving the small woman a wink as she turned her back to him and walked away, her muscular legs flashing for a moment as she moved with her hips swaying carelessly.

Ambrose chuckled to himself, retrieved two glasses of fermented grapes, and returned to his orange haired date finally.

* * *

"Ugh, we're gonna be late," Bayley whined from the backseat of Deteve Graves's Impala. "I hate being late to parties."

Charlotte placed a hand on her fiance's knee. "We'll be there soon, Bay. Then everyone will see how beautiful you are."

Graves watched with a smile as Bayley turned away to hide a bashful smile before turning to Charlotte and kissing her on the lips.

Graves, Flair, Bayley, and Nikki piled into Corey's trusty car. Graves and Flair, like Ambrose and the rest of the Stamford PD, wore their uniforms for the event. Nikki wore a midnight purple bodycon dress that showed off so much cleavage that Flair and Bayley's jaws both dropped when she emerged from her home. Bayley bore a more modest choice of clothing with a light blue empire dress with her hair down and curled. Graves caught his partner stealing several looks at her stunningly beautiful fiance every other moment.

"What's this for again," Nikki asked her brother. "The courthouse opening?"

Graves nodded. "This rich guy, Ted DiBiase, donated a ton of money to open a new courthouse. He's also hosting this party for the grand opening. He's got Shark Boy's Seafood catering the event tonight."

"I love Shark Boy's!" Bayley exclaimed. "That's where Charlotte took me on our first date. I didn't know it was such a formal place until I got there. Ohmygosh, I was so embarrassed when I realized I was the only person there not wearing fancy clothes."

"You and me both, Bayley," Nikki said. "That was John and I's favorite restaurant when he was still with us. I didn't know about the dress code until we got there."

The drive seemed to take longer than usual. Graves checked the rear view mirror to see his partner gently shaking her fiance awake once they finally arrived to Stamford.

"Tired, Bayley?" Graves asked with a chuckle.

Bayley nodded. "Yeah, I've been having bad dreams a lot lately."

"What are they about?" Nikki asked.

Bayley shrugged. "It's so silly, but I keep dreaming about waking up and seeing some creepy guy standing in the road and looking at our house. Then when I wake Charlotte up, he's gone."

"Just a bad dream, honey," Charlotte assured.

Bayley nodded her head, but Graves blood ran cold. Would it be possible that the "dreams" Bayley were having coincided with the person he saw in front of his house earlier that week? If not, that would be a hell of a coincidence if they weren't related. But if they were the same, then who was spying on them in the dead of night? It worried Graves that someone may be intending to hurt his family and his partner too.

"You ok, Corey?" Nikki asked.

Graves blinked. "Yeah," he nodded his head. "I just can't remember if I set the alarm or not before we left."

"Brie and Daniel are watching JJ, don't worry," Nikki reassured her brother. "I told them to call me if anything came up."

Graves nodded his head. "Ok."

Graves glanced in the rear view mirror again. He made eye contact with Flair; She had the same worried look on her face as he did.

Pulling up to the new courthouse, the party was indeed already started. Bayley excitedly jumped from the car, ran around to the other side, and helped Nikki out and pulled her towards the building since she had named them "dress buddies" for the rest of the night.

Graves walked with his partner a few yards behind their loved ones.

"They aren't dreams, are they?" Graves asked Flair.

Flair, sending a chill down Corey's spine, shook her head. "No, I've seen him too."

* * *

Captain Reigns took it upon himself to talk to each member of his homicide unit. Dashwood arrived with Paige the Pathologist as her date. Dallas and Axel showed up with their wives, though Ambrose joked they were rent-a-hookers for the night.

The tables were divided into the different departments; It wasn't assigned that way, it just happened to go that way. The forensics team kept stealing Becky from Dean so she could join in on their conversations. Ambrose didn't mind, since he spent most of the night checking out both Becky and the pretty IA lady anyway.

Right around eight pm, while dinner was being served, the man of the hour, Ted DiBiase, took to the stage at the head of the room. The entire Stamford police unit gave him the attention he respectfully deserved.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman of the Stamford Police Department," the old millionaire began. "Tonight is a special night, because it is the grand opening of the brand new Dustin Rhodes Memorial Courthouse. For those of you who do not know, Dusty was a good friend of mine up until his passing a few years ago. He was a policeman for thirty years before he, excuse his soul, retired and sadly became a volunteer fireman." DiBias paused to fake cringe while the room laughed and playfully booed Mr DiBiase. "But Dustin loved his job, because he loved serving the fine women of this city. So, I thought the best way to honor Dusty is to immortalize him with the opening of this new courthouse. And I know, somewhere, Dusty is looking down at each and every one of you, wishing he could be here to celebrate too."

The room gave him applause as he crossed the stage to pose for a picture with a plaque for the event and each of each captain from Vice, Arson, Traffic, Homicide, and the Special Persons units.

As the generous millionaire took his seat again, the kitchen waiting staff emerged from the back with steaming carts of that night's entree.

Bayley excitedly clapped when her and Charlotte's plates were placed in front of them.

Graves grinned down at his steaming plate of lobster, shrimp, and calamari. Ambrose moaned in pleasure, as did Becky, when they got their food.

"How you boys doin', huh?" A man with a chef's hat and a crazed look in his eye clamped a hand on Graves's and Ambrose's shoulders. "We got ourselves some De-licious seafood. Ya got the lobster and the calamari and the shrimp with that good garlic butter. Where's Tucky? Tucky!"

Graves and Ambrose glanced at each other as the eccentric chef walked away from their table.

"This shit looks great," Ambrose commented. "Where's it from?"

"Shark Boy's," Graves said.

Ambrose sat up. "What? D-y-what?"

"Shark Boy's. Ya know, seafood," Becky teased.

"Doesn't Renee work for Shark Boy's?" Captain Reigns asked.

Dean nodded his head. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Ambrose took a quick survey of the scene around him. As he scanned the room, he caught a head of blonde hair turning around. Sure enough, his ex-wife, Renee Young-Ambrose was wearing her uniform for the other part-time job she had.

"Mother fucker," Ambrose muttered, trying to keep himself out of Renee's line of sight. But, just as she went to walk away, she made eye contact with her ex-husband.

"Dean Ambrose, I thought I'd see you here," Renee said in a very loud, and very obviously fake happy tone. "How've you been, sweetie? Oh, look, you brought the harlot with you tonight."

Ambrose sat stone faced. He felt Becky's hand gently rub his knee, attempting to keep him calm, but his ex's presence was doing anything but that. He turned towards his date, morbid fear in his eyes.

Renee stepped behind Dean. "Aww, look at my man all nice and handsome in his uniform," she turned to Becky. "Hey, Rebecca, did _you_ ever wear his uniform before? Not as a policewoman, obviously, but as a turn on? Apparently he likes a woman in blue, don't you Dean?"

Dean stood up from his seat. He walked away from the scene, hoping to evade his furious ex. He stepped outside into the late summer's night. Ambrose took a deep breath, nearly choking on himself when he chuckled dryly and tears fell down his eyes.

"Dean?" The detective turned back to the building to see his new lover watching him carefully.

"Hey, beautiful," Dean spoke through his tears. "Um, so, you've finally met Renee..."

Becky chuckled dryly. "I can see why you left her."

Dean shook his head. "Don't," he wrapped his arms around the Irishwoman, inhaling a large take of oxygen through his nose to settle his nerves. "It's not her fault she hates me. There was this case, about a year ago-"

"You shouldn' be sufferin' fer doin' yer job, lad," Becky said, lightly rubbing Dean's back.

"I just let it take over my life," Dean muttered. "I didn't come home for days because I just couldn't rest until I found out who killed that little girl. I just... I never meant for her to feel so neglected. I guess I didn't realize what how bad it got until she handed me separation forms and told me she was leaving."

"You seem to always forget one big fucking key factor in that story Dean Ambrose," Renee Young suddenly emerged from the courthouse, fire in her eyes. "You always say it's me who walked away and all that bullshit."

Becky turned in Dean's arms, putting herself between him and his ex. "Jus' leave us alone, Renee," she demanded.

"Why? So you can go home and fuck him in _MY_ bed again?!" Renee snapped. "You little Irish slut. You have no idea the kind of man my husband was."

"He wanted to solve a case," Becky shot back. "You can't be mad at 'im fer doin' 'is job."

"No? Is ignoring my calls and texts for weeks part of his job?" Renee asked harshly. "Is forcing me to make a decision by myself when I found out I was pregnant part of his job?"

Dean's grip around Becky's waist tightened. The Irishwoman looked up at her lover, but his expression bore just as much shock as her own.

"Did you even glance at a single one of my texts before you blocked my number, sweetheart?" Renee asked.

"Renee, you're full of shi-"

"Am I?" Renee asked. "I mean, I had to do what I had to. What was I supposed to do when my husband wouldn't answer his phone so we could figure this thing out?"

"No..." Becky whimpered, eyes welling up and turning red.

"So I had to make a decision myself," Renee said, voice starting to break. "And since I'm just a dancer without her husband anymore, living with my friend Charly and her cats..." She paused and shrugged. "What else can a girl do?"

"No," Becky broke away from Dean's embrace. "Dean, tell me she's lyin'," she pleaded with the detective.

Dean slowly shook his head. "I... I don't-I don't know."

"Right, just like how you didn't know I was pregnant," Renee said. "By the way Becky, in case it written on the wall clear enough for your potato eating ass, I _was_ pregnant."

Becky shook her head. "Dean, tell me you talked to 'er."

"I didn't... I didn't know," Dean sputtered. "I... I just..."

"You just what?" Renee asked. "You were too busy burying your cock in her sweet lass that you couldn't bother making sure I was ok? After everything we've been through, I was just cast aside because Carrot Top over here dropped to her knees faster than you could say 'planned parenthood'?"

Becky, choking back another whimper, took off down the street. Dean hurriedly chased after her, pleading with her to stop and listen to him. Finally, after Dean's lungs were burning after running for at least six blocks, Becky stopped.

"Why didn' you 'elp 'er?" Becky demanded through bitter tears. "Why didn' you take care of 'er and 'er baby?"

"Becky, you have to believe me, I had no idea," Dean begged, even dropping to his knees. "Baby, I swear to God I had no idea she was pregnant."

Becky wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I told ya I wasn' sure about us when you was still married, but I looked past it because I loved ya," she shook her head, making her curled locks fall over her shoulders. "But t'is... I can't be with you, knowin' I was responsible fer t'e death of a baby."

"Becky, Becky, please," Dean took her hand. "Please, please, please, don't. I swear I didn't know."

Becky pulled her hand away. "Just leave me alone. Don't talk to me, don't call me, and don't come to t'e lab anymore. I don't want ta see you."

Becky turned and walked away, thankfully only a few blocks from her house, leaving Dean behind in a weeping mess while he knelt on the rough gravel.

* * *

The ride home for Nikki, Graves, Bayley, and Flair was quieter than their ride into town. Nikki did really well for her first time in Stamford after John died, from what Corey could see at least. Charlotte and Bayley had fallen asleep in the back not too long after they hit the city limits.

Graves and Flair discussed how they should the possible stalker they apparently had. Flair said she had alarms and locks on every door and window, as did Corey. If that failed, and she did find herself or Bayley in danger, Flair told Graves she slept with her gun on top of her dresser.

They pulled up to Graves's home shortly before eleven. Charlotte, with a groggy Bayley draped over her shoulder, bid her partner and his sister a farewell. Inside the house, Graves found his other step-sister and her husband asleep on the couch. Nikki went to check on JJ while Graves woke Brie and Daniel to talk about how their night went.

Brie and Daniel said goodbye once Nikki returned. Exhaling a big yawn, Nikki told her brother she was retiring to bed and sleeping most of the next day if JJ didn't wake her up. Graves told his sister goodnight.

After making sure every lock and window was secure, Graves retired to his bedroom also. He pulled back the curtains on the window facing the street, just in case there was the chance if his stalker being there again.

Graves shook his head after finding nothing, but he jumped when his phone started ringing. He cursed his own childishness before answering the phone.

"Yeah?" He asked.

Nothing. No answer came after Graves picked up. He checked his phone to make sure the call connected. It had, which struck him as strange.

"Someone there?" Graves asked; He could hear breathing, so he knew someone was there.

No answer. Graves checked the yard again. Much to his horror, the figure was in the street, staring at the house. Only this time, the figure had one of its hands pressed against its head.

"Since you're too chickenshit to talk, allow me," Graves said into the phone, but intending the threat to the person in the road. "I'm giving you ten seconds to walk away before I come out there and beat you to within an inch of your life. You come near me or my family or my partner's family again and you'll wish you've never been born. You understand me, motherfucker?"

Silence.

Graves, eyes still on the stalker, reached for his gun and clicked the safety off.

In a low, raspy tone, the stalker finally replied. "I'll kill you."

The line went dead. At that moment, Charlotte and Bayley's home lit up as their alarm went off. Graves raced down the hall to his sister's room.

"Nick!" He yelled, waking his sister up in the process. "Here," he handed her his gun. "Don't leave the house until I get back, ok? Protect JJ and stay here."

Before Nikki had time to respond, Graves dashed out of the room. He threw open the front closet, reaching for a shotgun he kept hidden on the top shelf. He disarmed the front door, rearmed the alarm, then threw open that door and ran across the front lawn when he slammed the door shut behind him.

The figure in the street was gone, but he could hear shouting coming from Flair's house.

The front door was open. Graves called out to Bayley and Charlotte as he stepped inside. He loaded a few shells into the gun and readied it.

"Flair? Bayley?" Graves called over the blaring alarms.

Moving through the living room, Graves came into the dining room. Under the table was his partner's fiance, weeping silently into her hands.

"Bayley?" Graves called to her.

Bayley looked up. She scurried from under the table and threw her arms around Graves.

"Where's Charlotte?" Graves asked.

Bayley shook her head. "I don't know. She went looking for the bad guy."

Graves told Bayley to stay behind him. With his gun at the ready, Graves continued down the hallway. The first room on his left, a bathroom, was empty. He checked the room at the end of the hall. A spare bedroom, from the looks of it, but nothing out of the ordinary.

He retraced his steps until he got to the basement door. Slowly, he descended the steps.

"Flair?" He called.

"I'm down here!" She yelled back.

Graves threw on the light. Huddled, in the back corner, was Flair. She was sitting near a crumpled body with a mask over its face.

"I got him, it's ok," Flair assured. "Bayley, honey, I'm fine."

Bayley tried to approach Flair, but Graves held her back. Slowly, he approached his partner. He pulled the masked person away, letting Bayley reunite with her fiance. Graves, out of pure anger, kicked the masked person in the ribs.

"Try again, mother fucker," he spat. He returned to his partner and her loved one. "Are you guys ok?"

"Corey!"

Graves turned in time to see the masked man raise his hand. A flash of light, a thunderous clap, and Graves dove for the floor. He aimed his shotgun and fired, but narrowly missed the man as he took a mad run at the staircase. Graves fired again, but only hit the banister.

"Charlotte!"

Graves head snapped back to his partner. Bayley's hands were bright red with her fiance's blood as it oozed from a wound in her shoulder.

She'd been shot.


	14. Chapter 14

_"Vital signs are normal... Patient is breathing on her own."_

 _"Bullet wound in her left shoulder. Can you find an exit wound?"_

 _"No, doctor."_

 _"Ok, prepare the anastasia. We may need to prep for surgery."_

 _"Yes, doctor..."_

* * *

Ambrose, surprisingly, returned to his office instead of going home. He knew being there without Becky was going to be a pain, and he wasn't ready to be alone just yet. Even more surprising, he actually filled out most of the paperwork he owed IA after his many recent visits. It helped distract him from Becky for a little bit, but the painful look in her eyes when Renee revealed she was no longer with child stuck in his mind every time he looked away from his laptop.

In Dean's hand was his cellphone. He pulled up a video that was supposed to have been him and Becky having sex, but it must've fallen over during filming because the video turned to black after a few minutes. Dean wasn't watching the video at all; He kept listening to the last few seconds the clip had before it stopped.

The last few moments could hear the Irishwoman giggle breathlessly, before telling Dean he was amazing and telling him she loved him. It was never brought up again after that, but Dean wished he said it back, in hindsight.

 _Becky giggled. "Yer amazin', lad... I love you..." Becky giggled. "Yer amazin', lad... I love you..."_ _Becky giggled. "Yer amazin', lad... I love you..." Becky giggled. "Yer amazin', lad... I love you..."_ _Becky giggled. "Yer amazin', lad... I love you..." Becky giggled. "Yer amazin', lad... I love you..."_ _Becky giggled. "Yer amazin', lad... I love you..." Becky giggled. "Yer amazin', lad... I love you..."_

Dean was pretty sure he was going to drive himself mad if he kept this up. He turned the video off, picked up his completed work, then took the elevator to the upstairs offices.

* * *

The third floor was a lot more empty without all the office workers or Miss Molly playfully berating Dean for his bad behavior. Of course it was also almost two in the morning, so maybe that added to the emptiness of the building; The only other person Dean knew was there was Roddy Piper working security.

Dean thought he felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it from his pocket, praying it was a text from Becky. It wasn't; Just a email from IA reminding him to fill out his paperwork before Monday.

"I am getting my fucking work done," Dean growled. His fist clenched, crumpling the paper he had finally written. "For maybe once in my miserable fucking life. Fuck!"

Ambrose arrived at the door to the office he'd grown all too familiar with since his hiring at Stamford PD. He planned on leaving the documents on Miss Bliss's desk and leaving to have a much needed drink, but he stopped once he saw a faint blue light coming from behind the glass window on the door. Ambrose cautiously opened the door, but his worry quickly subsided when he realized Miss Bliss herself was sitting at her desk with her computer monitor on.

Ambrose noticed the small woman was crying. She was still in her dress from the courtroom opening and her mascara was running slightly.

"Ma'am?" Ambrose asked, startling the IA representative.

"Detective," Miss Bliss addressed. She took a moment to retrieve a few tissues and dab at her damp eyes. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. Do you need something?"

Ambrose raised the stack of paperwork in his hand. "Got some of the work you needed me to do. It's not all, but it's better than nothing I think." He dropped the folders and packets on the desk. "Sorry to bother you, miss."

"Why are you here so late?" Alexa asked. "Captain Reigns tells me you usually don't come in on the weekends, especially at this hour."

Dean shrugged. "Just... Stuff. I got a lot on my mind and the brain numbing work I still had to do seemed like a good way to kill the pain."

Alexa sifted through the papers Dean had handed her. "You forgot your relationship form with Becky from forensics."

"That... Won't be necessary anymore," Ambrose stated. "We kinda broke up tonight during the party."

Alexa raised her eyebrows. "Oh, I'm so sorry, detective. I wasn't aware."

"That's probably a good thing," Dean muttered to himself. He nodded at Alexa. "Right, well I'll leave you alone then."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Alexa asked. "I'm a certified guidance counselor and talking about your problems can help."

Dean snickered. "No offense, but I don't feel like spilling my guts to my mortal enemy. I'll just go get drunk and wallow in my own self pity like everyone else."

Alexa opened a drawer on her desk. Causing Dean to chuckle, the woman withdrew a bottle of whiskey from the confines of the drawer.

"Serious Kick, eh?" Dean asked.

"How else do you expect me to get through all your incident reports, detective?" Alexa teased with a small smirk.

Dean chuckled again. "Alright, you've convinced me, ma'am. But, be warned, I got a lot of shit on my mind right now."

* * *

The faint voices of the nurses and the low volume of the tv just seemed like white noise to Corey Graves. He sat in the waiting room, staring at the wall as the minutes ticked by like hours.

What the hell happened that caused this chain of events to occur? Was this attack the killer trying to send a message, or was it something completely unrelated to the recent killings? Either way, someone had to answer for Detective Flair's current state.

Graves's hands folded in front of him. His head hung low and he inwardly had a conversation with a God he wasn't really even sure was there most of the time. He kept stealing glances at his step-sister and her son; Nikki was too afraid to stay at home, so she came with Corey to the hospital and called Brie to come pick her up and take her to her home in Hartford for a few days. Corey couldn't blame her for wanting to run. She had a son to look after, and the thought of a crazed shooter possibly waiting for her made Graves's skin crawl.

He shifted his focus to the woman sitting beside him. Poor Bayley, wearing a sweatshirt covered in her fiance's blood. She refused to change clothes and jumped into the back of the ambulance when it finally arrived to transport them to Stamford City Hospital. She was in hysterics when Graves arrived with Nikki. Nobody was telling her what was going on and she kept saying it meant Charlotte wasn't going to make it.

Right now, the brunette with the sideways ponytail sat in a chair beside Graves. Her knees were pulled up against her chest and her face bore the furthest expression from her usual full of life persona.

Graves laid a reassuring hand on Bayley's back. "She'll be ok," he told her. "Charlotte's tough."

Bayley nodded her head. "I know," her lip quivered. "She's my superhero. Superheros don't die, Corey. Especially mine."

"Exactly," Graves said. "Charlotte's in there right now getting extra help from doctors. If you hadn't called an ambulance, she probably would've stayed home and slept it off."

Bayley showed the faintest hint of a smile. "She is pretty stubborn. One time, she cut her finger making supper. I told her to go have it looked at, but she wouldn't listen," she took a second to wipe her eyes. "It ended up getting infected."

Graves chuckled along with Bayley. "Really?" He asked. "Was she ok?"

Bayley nodded her head. "Yeah, it was just a minor one. She took some antibiotics and got stitches in her finger. I kept telling her I told her so, but she just got grumpy and told me not to be a smart-butt."

Bayley turned her head to face Graves. The look of sheer terror in her puppy dog brown eyes broke his heart. Nobody, especially someone who has suffered through the things Bayley has, should have to live with the fear of possibly losing a loved one like this.

"I can't go back home, can I?" Bayley asked.

Graves shook his head. "I wouldn't. Just in case."

"But that house means so much to me," Bayley said. "Charlotte proposed to me there, it's where she first told me she loved me..." Bayley smiled softly. "It's where we first made love. I just can't leave that place behind. It's where I want to start our family."

"You don't have to move out forever," Graves told. "Just for a little while. Until we figure out who hurt Charlotte."

Bayley nodded. "Ok, I understand. I just want to get a few of my things before we settle anywhere. Clothes, my laptop, and my teddy bear and stuff."

"We'll take a trip there in the morning to get your stuff," Graves promised. "Then I'll get you guys a room at a real fancy hotel. Room service, cable tv, wifi..."

"A pool?" Bayley asked.

Graves smirked. "Sure. I can make that happen. You know Charlotte will need a few days off and relaxing with her fiance will be the best thing, I think."

Bayley nodded. "Me too."

A doctor suddenly walked into the room. "Family of Charlotte Flair?"

Bayley jumped to her feet. "Yes, I'm her fiance."

* * *

"...And that's the last time I saw my dad outside of a prison," Ambrose recalled, leaning back in his unofficially assigned chair in Alexa Bliss's office as he polished off his third glass of whiskey. "Not impressive, I know, but he did stupid shit for all the right reasons."

Miss Bliss nodded her head. "And that's why you are the way you are as a police officer. You give breaks to criminals with good intentions."

Ambrose snickered. "Nice try, miss, but you aren't getting a confession out of me that easily."

Alexa shook her head. "No, I just want to understand you better, detective. Believe me, I have heard my fair share of crazy stories in my career as a counselor and an IA representative."

"How'd you get into this line of work?" Ambrose asked. "Just felt like bugging the hell out of people?"

Alexa shook her head. "Not at all. I like helping people, as I'm sure you do too. I was too small to be a police officer and I didn't want to go to med school to become a doctor, so I settled for counseling and internal affairs for police units."

Ambrose smirked. "That's very noble of you. What do you mean too small? Dana Brooke is barely five-four and she's one of the baddest bitches in the unit."

Alexa chuckled nervously. "Well... Firearms make me nervous. My father is a hunter and he collects guns. I used to watch movies with him and saw what those things can do to people if used incorrectly."

"Yeah, but Hollywood makes that shit more dramatic than it really is. This is real life, not Clint Eastwood shooting some poor fucker in the desert." Ambrose said.

"I was thinking more of The Departed." Alexa said.

Ambrose raised his eyebrows. "You like The Departed?"

Alexa nodded. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite movies."

"Me too," Ambrose stated. "I always wanted someone to ask me if I was a cop just so I could reenact that scene."

"Are you a freakin' cop?" Alexa asked in a faux Boston accent.

"I ain't no fuckin' cop," Ambrose replied in an equally poor accent attempt.

The two coworkers shared a laugh. Ambrose felt the horrible pain of the evening slowly being lifted off his shoulders, but the entire idea of what he supposedly made his ex go through was going to take some time to forget.

"What happened with Miss Lynch?" Alexa asked.

Dean shook his head. "My ex-wife works at Shark Boy's. She showed up, made a scene, then..." He paused and sighed. "Told Becky and I she was pregnant when we broke up and had the pregnancy terminated. Becky didn't want to get involved with me when Renee and I separated because we were still technically together, and this was the straw the broke the camel's back."

"I'm so sorry, detective," Alexa said solemnly.

Dean shook his head. "Don't be. It was my own negligence that led to it. Heh, it's funny, I never saw myself being a dad, but the more I think about what could've been the more I wish I would've talked to her more. Maybe I would've been a cool dad. But... I'll never know."

Miss Bliss stood up from her chair. She rounded the desk and stood in front of Detective Ambrose.

Alexa knelt in front of Ambrose. "You are a good person, detective. You can do and say the wrong things some times, but I can tell your heart is in the right place. Now, just because I'm saying this doesn't mean you can do whatever you want and not expect me to discipline you when the time comes."

Ambrose snickered. "I prefer fuzzy handcuffs and a cattle prod when I'm being disciplined, ma'am."

Alexa stood back up. She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. Ambrose saw the annoyed look in her eyes and sighed.

"Hey, I'm sorry-"

The small thorn in Dean's side suddenly threw herself forward and crushed her lips against his. His breath completely escaped him once he realized, through his buzzed state, what exactly was happening. The small woman's hands cupped his face as she pulled back.

"You have been a pain in my ass for almost two weeks, detective," Alexa growled. "And for whatever reason, all I can think about is you fucking me over my desk as hard as you can."

"What the fuck?" Dean muttered with a chuckle.

Alexa ran her hand over the front of Ambrose's dress pants. A naughty grin spread across her lips when she felt the swelling she was looking for.

"Your stupid bad boy act is so fucking juvenile," Miss Bliss hissed, pulling roughly at the collar of Dean's uniform. "But it makes me want your throbbing cock inside me so fucking bad. I'm so happy that dipshit ex of mine was cheating on me, because I don't know how much longer I could hold out on you."

"This isn't really happening." Ambrose told himself.

"What's wrong, detective," Alexa teased with gritted teeth. "You can beat up murder suspects but you're too afraid to fuck me?"

Ambrose swiftly lifted Miss Bliss from under her legs and laid her on top of her desk. As he kissed her lips again, his hands slid up her thighs and gripped the waistband of her panties. He slid the fabric off and tossed them behind him and started unbuckling his belt, but he stopped when he suddenly heard glass breaking.

"What was that?" Alexa asked, sitting up over the edge of her desk.

Ambrose pressed his finger to his lips as he drew his gun. "Stay here, ok?" He told Alexa.

"You had that on you this whole time?" Alexa asked with a mix of fear and arousal in her eyes.

Ambrose stepped into the hallway. He aimed his gun in front of himself, slowly retracing his previous path back to reception. A flicker of light came a few short yards from him.

"Stamford Police, don't fucking move!" Ambrose shouted, aiming his gun at the figure.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's me!" Officer Piper called, flipping the switch for the hallway light. "I was checking an alarm that went off up here and accidentally knocked over Miss Holly's candy jar."

Ambrose confirmed that claim was correct when he saw the mess of MnM's spilled on the floor. He switched the safety back on his gun and put it away.

"Scared the hell out of me, Roddy," Ambrose chuckled.

Piper cocked an eyebrow. "Why are you up here? I thought you said you had paperwork..." His words trailed off once Miss Bliss stepped into the hallway behind Dean. Piper chuckled. "Ah, I see."

Ambrose looked at Alexa, then back at Piper. "No, it's nothing like that. I had paperwork-"

"Uh huh, I know what you mean," Piper chuckled. "I'll leave you two alone then."

With Piper returning down the hall, Ambrose turned back to the short IA rep behind him.

"I, uh," Ambrose began, trying to find correct words for this situation. "I should probably get going."

Alexa nodded. "I think that's what's best, detective. Maybe it's better we don't discuss tonight to anyone."

"I think so too. Just blame it on the booze," Ambrose stated. "I'll, uh, see you around, miss."

With that, Ambrose left Alexa to herself while he walked back down the hallway to the elevators.

* * *

Corey paced outside Charlotte's hospital room. Right now, they were only accepting family to see her; That only meant Bayley.

From what they told him so far, the recover of the bullet was a success. Her collarbone was hit, but they were able to put the bone together with a few screws. She'd need to wear a sling for a few weeks, but she was otherwise unaffected by the attack.

Graves chuckled to himself at the thought of Charlotte being unburdened by being shot in the shoulder. She could've died if the bullet had gone any lower on her body, but he pictured his partner shrugging it off and being back at the station as early as the next day.

"Detective?" Dr Richards, Charlotte's doctor, stepped out into the hallway from her room.

"Yes, is everything ok?" Graves asked.

Dr Richards nodded. "Everything is in order. She is resting now, but she would like to see you. Fair warning, we have her on a few painkillers so she is a little light headed right now."

Graves thanked the doctor and entered his partner's room. Inside, he found Bayley lying beside Charlotte in her hospital bed. She was stripped down to her bra, but her black dress pants were still on. Her left shoulder had a massive patch of gauze wrapped around it and her arm was being supported by a sling. Her heart monitor beeped at a normal rate.

Bayley's head perked up when the door shut. Charlotte rolled her head from looking at her fiance to where Graves was standing.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Flair joked with a groggy smile.

Graves chuckled. "Looks like you got off easy, Flair."

Charlotte shook her head. "That motherfucker that shot me got off easy. Had I been paying attention, Bay and I would be scrapping his brain matter off the basement wall with butter knives.

"Ew," Bayley groaned, causing both Flair and Graves to laugh.

Graves took a seat next to the bed. "How do you feel?"

"Good news for Bay, I'm right handed," Flair joked, getting a giggle from her fiance. "They... Got me so doped up I feel like my head is a fish tank and Bayley is made of rainbows and sunshine."

"That might actually be true," Graves said, adding a wink to his partner's lover.

"Bay said you're renting us a room at some fancy ass hotel?" Charlotte asked.

Graves nodded. "Yeah, for a little while. When we get the guy that attacked you, I think it'll be safe to go back."

"Any ideas who the fucker is?" Flair asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Graves said. "I'm willing to beat he's got something to do with the murders these last few weeks, but I can't prove that since we don't have any evidence on that either."

"If it is the same guy, he's running scared now," Charlotte stated. "He'll either never kill again or fuck up in his next kill. Maybe then we finally get somewhere."

Graves nodded his head. "I fuckin' hope so. I can't hand this case over to Ambro-"

"You ain't handing shit over," Charlotte said. "We're solving this thing."

"What's important is who shot you," Graves said.

Charlotte shook her head. "Let that blonde cunt from Vice figure it out. You and I are getting to the bottom of this thing. Even if it kills me."

"Stop," Bayley whimpered, burrowing her face in the nape of Charlotte's neck.

"Not literally, Bay," Charlotte smiled. "Your body is too perfect to give up. It'll take more than some pussy with a nine millimeter to take me away from you."

"I'll let you get some rest," Graves said. "Tomorrow, I'm taking Bayley back to your place to pick up some things. Then I'll take her to the hotel."

Charlotte gave a thumbs up with her non-injured arm. Graves said goodbye and left the hospital room.

* * *

The next morning, Graves woke up in his own bed. Nikki and JJ left for Hartford the night before with Brie and Daniel. He told them to stay as long as it took to find the guy that hurt Charlotte.

As the detective stepped outside, he saw his partner's house was still blocked off by police tape. A patrol car stayed parked on the other side of the street to keep an eye on the crime scene at all times.

Graves texted back and forth with Bayley throughout the morning to let her know he was going to come pick her up soon. He'd already got a hotel reserved for her and Charlotte for the next few weeks.

As Graves slid inside his trusty impala, his phone began ringing. He expected to see Bayley's number flash on screen, but it was Stamford PD instead.

"Yeah?" Graves answered.

"Detective Graves? In charge of the Stamford murders case?" The operator asked.

"This is him," Graves confirmed with his badge number.

"We have another situation," the operator continued. "Male, early thirties, showing signs the other victims had."

"Male?" Graves echoed.

"Can you be there soon?" The operator asked.

Graves confirmed and took note of the address. Quickly starting his car, Graves took off quickly for the city limits.


	15. Chapter 15

Puzzling wasn't a strong enough adjective to describe the situation presented before Detective Graves. Another piece to the ever growing puzzle of who was behind a pair of murders over the last few weeks just seemed to get more complicated right when Corey thought he was on to something.

"Male victim?" Graves asked himself while pulling up to the latest crime scene. This time, instead of a shady alley behind a bar or gas station, it was a suburban home in the middle of Stamford. Some things just didn't match with the previous pair of murders.

Why did the killer choose a male this time? Why in the middle of the suburbs? If this was the same guy that attacked Flair, how did he back to Stamford? All these questions and Corey didn't even have a clue how to answer them.

Graves flashed his badge to the patrolman standing guard in the driveway. He stepped inside the house to find two more policemen and a woman seated on the couch in the living room. Paige greeted Corey from the kitchen and waved him over.

"Glad you could make it so quickly, detective," Paige told Graves. "No Flair today?"

"She's on medical leave right now," Graves told, making it clear he wasn't going to say anymore about his partner. "What do you got for me?"

Paige unzipped the body bag resting on a stretcher in the dining room.

"Male, Latino, early thirties," Paige began. "Name is Andrade Almas. His wife, Zelina, called it in. Says she walked in on a masked man slicing her husband's throat when she came in here to make breakfast."

"That's who's on the couch?" Graves asked, looking back at the weeping woman seated with two police officers.

Paige nodded. "That's her. According to her, the man killed her husband and took off through the front door. She says he said something to her, but she doesn't remember what it was. That's all I know."

Graves examined the gaping wound on the victim's neck; It closely resembled the wound on the other victim's necks almost perfectly.

"Serrated?" Graves asked.

"Yes, I'd say the same kind of blade used on Olivia and Eva Marie," Paige said. "Looks like you got yourself a serial killer, Graves."

"But the first two victims were scantly clad females," Graves said. "Why a male this time? Especially in front of his wife?"

Paige shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, detective."

"Detective, sir," Graves turned to find one of the offices consoling the widow addressing him. "Uh, Officer Dream. Officer Blake and I were the first on the scene."

Graves nodded. "How's the widow?"

"She says she won't tell us anything else without you," Officer Dream explained. "She only told us about finding her husband being killed and calling the police. She won't say anything else."

Graves thanked the officer and approached the sofa. Her silent sobs and quivering lip made this mildly inconvenient stop for Graves all that more real. The reality of this woman's situation stung Corey in the chest harder than he thought anything could since his brother-in-laws death. Seeing a woman go through the loss of her husband, after seeing what it did to Nikki, brought back painful memories.

Graves knelt in front of the weeping woman. "Ma'am?"

The woman picked her eyes up from the floor. Her chocolate brown gaze locked with Graves, and for a moment Corey thought he saw the pain melt away for a second and see hope shimmer through her.

"I'm Detective Corey Graves," Graves told the woman. "I need to ask you a few questions, if that's ok."

Zelina nodded her head. "Yes, sir," she spoke almost silently. Her voice weakened by her mournful tears.

* * *

Detective Ambrose stepped into the Stamford Police Station early Sunday morning. So early, in fact, that Officer Piper questioned if he was still buzzing from his late night of drinking the night before at the courthouse opening. Ambrose chuckled dryly and said he wouldn't be there if he was.

Ambrose had work on his mind. Like the previous night, before he had a rather strange encounter with Miss Bliss, his mind was distracted for most of the evening with the focus his seemingly endless stack of paperwork brought. Sign his name here, date something else, and try to correctly remember if the way he discharged his firearm would seem lawful and within reason.

All the thinking about the work he had to do nearly distracted Ambrose from the head of fiery orange hair waiting for him inside the elevator.

"Becky," Ambrose blurted out, heart skipping a beat when he realized she was standing there.

"Detective," Becky replied in a heartbreakingly cold manner, keeping her gaze away from Dean's

Ambrose shuffled on to the elevator next to his ex-lover. He went to hit the button for the second floor, but stopped when he saw it was already pressed.

"Where you headed?" Ambrose asked.

"Seth wants ta speak to me," Becky replied, but kept her eyes forward.

"They gave him the promotion over you?" Ambrose asked.

Becky nodded her head but kept her words to herself.

Ambrose sighed. "They should've given it to you. You're way smarter than Rollins is."

While Becky didn't respond, Dean rolled his eyes at his own lame way to strike a conversation with her.

"Look, Beck, you gotta understand I didn't know about the baby," Dean said. "I swear, if I did, I wouldn't have just ignored her like I did. I would've done the right thing and helped her raise it."

"Ya would've had ta leave me to do it," Becky replied. Her earthy brown eyes were covered in tears that sent a cold chill down Dean's spine.

"No, I could've still been with you," Ambrose said. "Becky, Renee and I were done. There was nothing bringing us back together. She could've had fourteen of my babies, but I still would've chosen you over her."

Becky silently shook her head and dropped her eyes to the floor of the elevator.

"You mean too much to me, and I'm not ready to throw away everything just because of one mistake," Ambrose said.

Becky inhaled sharply, covering her mouth to stifle more tears. Ambrose saw that and nearly considered taking his own life just so Becky wouldn't be in pain like she was right now ever again.

"I love you, Becky," Ambrose muttered.

Becky chuckled dryly. "Don'... Don' you fuckin' dare say that an' expect me ta forgive you. Don' you dare play my emotions against me, Dean Ambrose. If you t'ink fer a second that I'm gonna jump back into yer arms jus' because you love me-"

"I don't, at all," Ambrose interrupted. "I expect you to walk out of my life forever and go on to find I guy that apprciates you for every perfect thing about you. Because you deserve so much better than some piece of shit homicide detective that neglected his ex-wife so badly she thought terminating her pregnancy was the right thing to do."

Becky swallowed hard but kept her response to herself again.

"I love you and I care about you," Abrose said. "I'm not saying take me back, because I know I don't deserve that. I deserve you leaving me and finding happiness somewhere else. I care about you too much to allow you to be dragged down by me."

Becky shook her head. "Lad... Why did it take you t'is long to figure out I'm the best you'll ever have?"

Dean chuckled once he caught on that Becky was heckling him. The two shared a laugh until the elevator stopped on their floor.

Becky and Dean shared a look once they stepped off the lift. Becky allowed Ambrose to kiss her on the cheek as a sign of peace between them.

"If you do decide I'm worthy enough for a second chance," Ambrose said. "I wouldn't say no."

Becky nodded her head. "I... Won't say it's impossible. But I won't say it's happenin' tomorrow."

"It shouldn't be tomorrow," Ambrose brought Becky in for a gentle embrace. Thankfully, Becky hugged him back. "Whenever you're ready."

Becky nodded her head. When too short of time was up, Becky broke herself away from the hug and walked away. Ambrose felt a hole in his chest start to open more while he watched her walk away.

Ambrose, remorse and regret hanging over him, almost made it to his office before he received an email from Internal Affairs.

"Mandatory meeting, ASAP?" Ambrose read from the message.

Groaning heavily at what was surely going to be another pain this weekend, but a little joyous to see Alexa again, Ambrose stepped back onto the elevator and hit the button for the third floor.

* * *

"Do we have everything you need, ma'am?" Detective Graves asked the still shaken, but less hysterical woman sitting beside him on the sofa.

Zelina sipped at the glass of water that had been given to her by one of the uniformed officers.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Zelina replied. "Please, call me Zelina."

"Zelina," Graves echoed. "You were the one that found your husband?"

Zelina nodded her head. "I came downstairs to cook Andrade and myself breakfast... Then I saw a man standing behind my Andrade with a large knife, almost like a machete." She paused to cover her mouth and silence a cry. " _Mi esposo_ fell to the floor. And the blood... _Dios mio_ , there was so much blood."

Graves nodded his head. "Do you remember what the man looked like? What he was wearing?"

"Just a black hoodie, black jeans, and a ski mask over his office. Fucking _pendejo_ too much of a coward to show his face," Zelina cursed.

"You said he had a large knife, like a machete?" Graves asked.

Zelina nodded. "It looked like a saw at first, but when I think about it, it was more like a machete."

Graves jotted down the notes he was being given. "Was there anyone who would've wanted to hurt your husband? Enemies, family members, neighbors?"

Zelina shook her head. "No, my Andrade is... _Was_ a sweet man. He always looked out for his friends and loved ones. No one would wish harm on Andrade."

Graves closed his notepad. "Do you have anyone you can go to? Close realitives? Parents?"

"I have a few friends in town," Zelina said. "Please tell me you can find out who did this, detective."

It was a question Graves always got in the past: "Can you find out who did this?" And everytime he was required to assure the person who asked that he would do everything in his power to bring justice to the victim's family or friends. But the fearful look behind Zelina's eyes brought out a new anger in Corey. Something about her made him want to find out who hurt her husband and bring him down before he did anything else.

"I promise you I will find out who did this to your husband," Graves said. "I will not rest until your husband's killer sees justice."

Zelina lunged forward and threw her arms around Graves. " _Gracias_ , thank you so much. I will never forget your kindness, detective."

Graves hugged the woman back for a moment longer. Her hair smelled like lilac and made him smirk. He quickly broke the hug when he realized who unprofessional he was being.

"Here," Graves handed Zelina his business card. "Just in case you need me."

Zelina thanked the detective once again, this time with a smile. Graves thanked the woman for her time and left the house. Once he got situated in his car, and he realized the biological response his body was showing from Zelina's smile, hug, and flower scented hair that he realized his phone was ringing.

Graves cursed when he saw it was his partner's fiance. "Hey, Bayley, I'm on my way right now... No, I had to do something for work. I'll be there in a minute."

Starting his car and pushing Zelina's smile to the back of his mind, Graves took off for the hospital to pick up Bayley.

* * *

Ambrose hesitated opening the door to Miss Bliss's office. On the other side would be the woman he nearly had a sexual encounter with the night prior. If Officer Piper hadn't been so clumsy, he would've surely had intercourse with Alexa on her desk. What would've happened next wasn't clear and Ambrose knew he'd never know, but it plagued his dreams like a bad movie throughout the night.

The tiny blonde was sitting behind her desk when Ambrose finally found the courage to open the door. Her oceanic blue eyes flickered from her computer screen to Dean when she noticed his presence. Her gaze stared at him, almost teasingly, over the upper rim of her glasses. Ambrose smirked to himself once he saw she was back to the jacket and dress shirt combo that showed off just the right amount of professional cleavage.

"Detective, glad you could arrive so quickly," Miss Bliss said, though her tone wasn't as warming as her words.

Dean sat in his unassigned assigned chair. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," Ambrose replied sarcastically. "So, what is it I did this time? You saw me barely seven hours ago, so I can't even imagine what you think I did this time."

Alexa cleared her throat. "Actually, that's why I need to speak to you... Last night was a mistake. I enjoyed the talk we had and I find your story fascinating. But what happened afterwards can not happen again."

Ambrose nodded. "I agree. I told you last night that we shouldn't discuss this with anyone and I haven't."

"Right, but I need to be very clear," Alexa leaned over her desk. "This cannot happen again. You crossed a line last night when you started to undress me after laying me across my desk."

Ambrose was so hypnotized in Alexa's emphasized cleavage that he nearly missed what she said. "I'm sorry, what _I_ did? Heh, what do you mean what I did? You kissed me first."

Alexa sighed. "Detective, I'm willing to let it slide for now. But the way you acted last night was unprofessional. I should press charges, but I won't since it stopped relatively fast."

"You're serious?" Ambrose said. He chuckled dryly. "And grabbing a handful of my junk was just, what, a friendly gesture?"

Alexa sat back in her chair. "I knew you were going to make a big deal out of this. I'm going to have to write you up for gross misconduct with another Stamford PD official."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ambrose asked.

"Do not use vulgar language with me or I will have to-"

"What? You'll have to what? Suspend me?" Ambrose barked. "Try your best, ma'am, because the last chick in this office that tried getting me kicked out of here couldn't do a damn thing. She tried her damnedest to get me fired, but I'm too good at my job to let some pencil pushing bitch get me kicked out of here. And now you're gonna lie and say _I_ came onto _you_? You're out of your fucking mind, _ma'am_."

Alexa removed her glasses. "How dare you," she stood up from her desk and walked around until she stood in front of Dean. "How dare you speak to me like that. Who the hell do you think you are?"

Ambrose dropped his head. "Look, I'm sorr-"

"You stand up straight and look me in the eye when you address me," Alexa demanded.

Ambrose shook his head and stood up. "I didn't mean to come off insubordinate. But you can't..." His words died in his throat when Alexa's hands massaged the front of his jeans.

Alexa smirked up at him. "Does arguing with women get you that worked up, detective? I could almost say I'm flattered."

Ambrose chuckled dryly. "I knew you were full of shit the second I sat down."

"All night, all I could think about was what could've happened if that klutz hadn't broken that glass bowl," Alexa giggled at Dean's anatomy responding positively to her touch. "Mmmm, you like a woman in charge? Did Miss McMahon know that?"

"If she did, I'd be in prison," Ambrose joked.

"Lucky for me, you're not." Alexa whispered.

Alexa's hands shifted to Dean's belt buckle while she slowly dropped to her knees. Ambrose prayed to the high heavens that no one was scheduled for a meeting with the blonde IA lady after him or Piper stayed at his desk for the rest of the day.

Ambrose's zipper opened, his jeans sagged, and all other thoughts escaped his mind when the pretty IA lady's lips wrapped around his most precious body part.


	16. Chapter 16

Four more weeks passed since the third murder occurred. That also meant SPD went four more weeks without any new information to finally bring an end to the case that had the city buzzing. Media outlets dubbed the murderer "The Stamford Slayer" soon after word on Andrade's murder made it to the news. Four weeks passed without further incident. Everyone was on edge, waiting for the next attack to be reported at any moment. But everything just came to a stand still.

Detective Graves nearly ran himself into the ground trying to find a new lead. No DNA, no witnesses, nobody stepping forward with a tip of who this guy could be. All he had going for him was the constant office visits from Zelina Vega, Andrade's widow. She visited Corey a few times a week just to see where his progression was at in solving her husband's murder. She'd come in, lunch time, with an extra hamburger or something for Corey to snack on while he continued to work. She'd voice her belief in Graves and pray for him before heading on with the rest of her day. Graves felt the situation inappropriate, but he couldn't exactly lose his temper with the widow.

Currently, Graves sat at his desk with a takeout box from Ken En Tai's opened in front of him. Zelina stopped by again with extra sushi and egg rolls for the tired, overworked police officer. Corey meant to talk to her about her daily visits, but he decided he didn't mind the free food more than he wanted to tell her to stop.

"These are my favorite," Graves told the widowed woman, pointing at a spicy crab roll with his chopstick. "I like the little spice they put in there. Ties the whole thing together, I think."

Zelina grinned and dropped her head. "They were my Andrade's favorite too. He'd get four orders of them every time we went to Kai En Tai's," she let out a small giggle. "He'd always send them back if they weren't hot enough. He liked spicy food a lot. Just in his blood."

"All these stories you tell about him, he sounds like a really nice person," Graves said.

Zelina nodded. "He was. Andrade was my everything. We met in high school, got married, and ran away together. Didn't make it very far from New York, but I don't regret anything I did with him."

Graves caught the eye of Captain Reigns. Reigns had aired his concern about Zelina coming into the office almost every day to have lunch with Corey. Corey assured his boss he was just letting a grieving woman do what she needed to heal, but Roman said it was probably not a good idea.

"Anyway, thank you for lunch," Graves closed his takeout back and put it off to the side. "I have to really get back to work. I have a feeling I'm close to figuring something out."

Zelina's face lit up. "I'm so happy to hear that, detective. Just as long as you avenge the death of my Andrade and bring his killer to justice. That is all I ask for."

With one more goodbye, and a quick hug, Zelina left the office to continue on with her day.

As soon as Zelina disappeared down the hall, Reigns approached Graves's desk.

Graves began talking before Reigns had the chance. "Before you say anything, Captain, I know she shouldn't be up here everyday. I know it's not a good idea, but I don't know what to tell her. She's grieving and just needs someone to talk to."

Reigns sighed. "Look, I admire what you're trying to do. I appreciate you being her shoulder when she needs it. But the mini lunch dates need to stop, ok? _My_ boss is getting on my ass about letting civilians up here. I've never let Charlotte bring Bayley up here, I can't let you keep inviting Ms Vega."

Corey nodded his head. "I understand, sir. I'll figure out a way to tell her before she shows up again tomorrow."

"Thank you for your cooperation," Reigns pointed at Corey's takeout box. "You gonna finish your California rolls?"

"Fuck off," Graves chuckled, sending his superior off with a laugh too.

* * *

Detective Dean Ambrose had to pay yet another visit to IA that afternoon. It had been a pain in the ass in the past, but with the new relationship he was forming with Miss Bliss, it became less of a chore to visit her nearly everyday.

Alexa exhaled slowly, her cheeks a rosy red with her blonde locks caked to her forehead with light perspiration. Ambrose sat back in Alexa's desk chair, thumbing the light layer of cum away from his lower lip. In a strangely gentleman like fashion, Dean fetched Alexa's underwear from the floor and helped slide them up her shapely legs.

"Fuck, I really needed that," Alexa whispered with a breathless chuckle. "Thank you, detective. That was so fucking good."

Ambrose helped the tiny IA rep down from atop her desk. He originally came up a few hours prior, expecting to be yelled at for doing God knows what wrong. But instead, much to his delight, he found Alexa seated on her desk with her legs spread wide and her panties balled up in her hand.

"Sure thing, ma'am," Ambrose grinned. "Anything to get me out of getting thrown in prison."

Alexa straddled Dean's lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the lips lightly, then parted his mouth with her tongue and slid hers between his teeth. Her fingers tangled in his messy brown hair and tugged gently. Dean grabbed Alexa's ass with both hands and gave her a hard but still playful smack. Alexa giggled into the kiss from both the spanking and feeling Dean's member press against her through his pants.

"I like these lunch dates," Alexa whispered in Dean's ear. "I like watching you eat my pussy, detective. It's one of my favorite things."

Ambrose chuckled. "Yeah, well, I like watching you watching me, darlin'." The mid-west twang in his voice low and raspy to make himself sound more alluring.

Alexa let her hands journey to the belt line of Dean's jeans. "Before I return the favor, I need to ask you something."

"You can never EVER use too much tongue." Ambrose snickered.

Miss Bliss shook her head. "No, it's about you and me. We've been sneaking around like this for a while now. About a month, actually."

"Yeah, best month of my life," Ambrose stated.

Alexa nodded. "I know, I've been really enjoying it too. Just, um... If we're going to keep doing this, I want us to be official, if that's ok."

Ambrose grinned. "You wanna tell your mom and dad you let a homicide detective fuck you over your desk?"

Alexa giggled. "No, more like making it the real thing. I like hooking up with you, but I don't like knowing you're probably sleeping with some slut from accounting when you're not here."

"Forensics, actually," Dean thought with a smirk. "Just you, darlin'," he said out loud. "Your lips have been the only lips that have been engulfing my cock in the last five weeks."

Alexa nodded. "Good, I'm glad. But, Stamford PD can't know we do this. We both could lose our jobs."

"Then who do we tell about you and me?" Ambrose asked.

Alexa smiled. "Just us. Let it be our little secret. Then, when I think we can get away with it, we'll tell people."

"I'm just making you into a little troublemaker, aren't I?" Ambrose asked with a chuckle.

Alexa pulled Dean's head into the nape of her neck. "You made me a troublemaker the first time I swallowed you," Alexa teased in Dean's ear. "I thought I could escape, but you fucked me like a little pornstar and I knew I couldn't go."

Ambrose gripped Alexa's ass tighter. "You are just asking for it now aren't you?"

"I thought I didn't have to," Alexa teased.

Ambrose, knowing this move would allow him to avoid answering Alexa's question, lifted her and laid her across her desk. Instead of pulling her panties off again, Dean simply shifted them away from her vagina. Alexa giggled excitedly when Ambrose unbuckled his belt. Her breath hitched and her back arched when he swiftly entered her.

* * *

Ambrose almost made it back to his car without another incident slowing him down. Those plans of course were foiled the moment he locked eye with a woman with orange hair as she walked into the police station.

Dean and Becky stood in awkward silence, simply staring at each other without saying a word.

"Hey," Dean said.

"Hi," Becky replied.

They fell into silence again. Dean smiled partially, wanting to get a similar reaction from Becky. The orange haired Irishwoman simply shook her head and brushed past Ambrose.

With a hole in his chest only getting bigger, Dean turned to walk away from the building.

"Ambrose," came a voice behind Dean. "We got a scene we gotta scope out."

Dean turned to find Detective Dashwood approaching him. "Why?" He asked.

"Don't be stupid and get in your car," Dashwood hissed.

Seeing he had no other choice, and he didn't want to be around Stamford PD any longer, Ambrose followed Dashwood out to his car.

* * *

Ambrose drove the given directions to a shady neighborhood in the heart of Stamford. He wondered out loud why they were there, but Dashwood told him they needed to respond to a call.

"What kind of call?" Ambrose asked.

"Domestic disturbance," Dashwood replied. "Don't know who or why, but we got a job to do."

Dean chuckled. "We permanent partners now, Em?"

Dashwood rolled her eyes behind her aviators. "It appear so, Ambrose."

Dean pulled up to the house in question. He told Dashwood to stay put so he could scope the place out a little. Ambrose rounded the corner of the house. He gave the place a once over, noticing it was far from inhabitable. It looked as though no one lived in the house for a long time.

Ambrose shook his head and moved into the backyard. He shook his head again, but then a thunderous gunshot rang out from the front of the house where he left Dashwood.

Turning on the afterburners, Ambrose shot back around the corner of the house. His stomach dropped to the floor. Dashwood was writhing around on the ground, clutching at a gaping wound in her throat.

"Emma! Fuck!" Ambrose hurried to his partner's side. He pulled of his jacket and held it hopelessly against her throat. "Just breathe, Em, focus on your breathing."

Ambrose tried to apply as much pressure as he could to the wound, but it was proving no use. Ambrose clawed at his pocket to free his phone and call for backup. But it was too little, too late. As Ambrose finally freed his phone, Dashwood stopped kicking her feet. Her face grew pale and the light in her eyes flickered away.


	17. Chapter 17

For the duration Detective Ambrose was on the Stamford police force, no one, other than those he had shared a bedroom with, had ever seen him display any other emotion other than angry or uncaring. As Ambrose stood in the morgue of Stamford City Hospital, staring down blankly at the lifeless body of his partner, his dark eyes were filled with tears while his teeth clenched in pure hate and anger.

"In all my years doing this, detective, I was always told to do one thing: Never get close to anyone," Paige, lip quivering slightly as her tears fell for her late girlfriend. "I made the stupid mistake of thinking it was a good idea to date a cop."

Dean shut his eyes. Half of his brain ordered him to scream and tear the city to the ground until somebody confessed to the murder of Detective Dashwood. The other part, the one he hated for being the voice of reason, told him to keep his anger at bay for the moment and think with logic to track down whoever did this.

Emma's death was the same as the three others in the string of murders in the last few weeks: Neck cut so deep it was near decapitation. But, this time, it was obviously a set-up. A warning, perhaps, to cease all investigation as to who was killing innocent people. Or maybe it was a desperate way to throw off any trails that might be pointed in the right direction. Either way, no matter what the motive was at this point, Ambrose was ready to snap.

"Someone will fucking pay for this," Ambrose growled under his breath. "I swear on everything I believe in that I will find who did this. Nobody gets away with killing a cop like this."

Paige's teary, rosy red cheeks lifted in a small smile. "Thank you, detective."

Ambrose straitened the collar on his blood stained leather jacket. "I wasn't talking to you." With that, he left the morgue without another word.

* * *

Graves was called to the scene of the crime where Dashwood had died. His case was the 'Stamford Slayer' and anything that came close to a resemblance of what might be part of the killer's work. Grave's gut dropped to his knees when he saw the unblinking eyes of one of the brave women he knew in his life staring up at the sky. He cursed under his breath, muttered a quick prayer, then gently slid his fingers over her eyes to close them.

That had been over an hour ago. Currently, under the insistent orders from his partner, Graves sat in a hotel room in downtown Stamford with Charlotte seated across from him. Laid out before them on the table was every note, photo and other piece of information they might have on the case.

Charlotte, despite her injured arm giving her some discomfort throughout the day, stayed focused mostly on her work. Graves noticed the intense glare in her eyes back when she was shot, but he hadn't said a word to her. This case was putting everyone, police officer or otherwise, on edge.

"When's the last time you slept, Flair?" Graves took note of Charlotte's seventh yawn in the span of about two minutes. Aside from the hate in her eyes and disdain in her voice, Graves could tell his partner was running on backup batteries at this point.

"I sleep just fine, Graves," Flair replied without looking up from her stack of notes.

"Ok, when's the last time you slept longer than an hour?" Graves questioned, getting a dirty look for his persistence.

"Last week," Bayley chirped from the bed across the room.

"Hush," Charlotte threw back, using a tone to show she was annoyed but a choice of words that both got the point across and didn't upset her fiance too much.

Bayley simply shrugged and went back to her handheld video game.

"I am worried about you, Charlotte," Graves chose to use Flair's first name to hopefully get his concern across. "I think you're letting this get to your head-"

"I was shot in the basement of my home," Flair cut in, still keeping her voice low but all the more intense. "If the bullet went any lower, I would've died in my fiance's arms. I don't give two shits what you think is best for me. What's best is that we catch this motherfucker and mount his head above my fucking fireplace. So shut your mouth and find a fucking lead. Do you even fucking care that one of our own is dead?"

"How could you say that? Dashwood was just as much as my friend as she was yours!" Graves shot back.

"Well, bitching about my sleep schedule isn't doing her any good," Flair took a swig from the beer she had sitting among a collection of empty bottles she displayed neatly on the table.

Graves sighed. "Fine. I'm going to get us some lunch because I know we think better with food in us."

Flair didn't respond to her partner as he left the hotel room. She continued looking over her papers, trying to find even the smallest spec of information.

"Charlie!" Bayley called from the bed, a whiny tone in her voice that made Flair roll her eyes. "I'm cold! Come cuddle with me!"

"I'm doing work, hun," Flair replied. "And you know I hate it when you call me 'Charlie'."

Bayley rolled off the bed and shuffled up behind her fiance. The crime scene pictures displayed on the table made Bayley's stomach churn from the graphic nature of the image.

Bayley wrapped her arms around Flair's shoulders, but made sure not to disturb her injured shoulder. "Baby, come on. What Corey said was sorta true. You don't sleep that much anymore. You could use a nap and some food. I'm really worried about you."

Flair sighed. "Bayley, I'm trying to figure out who broke into our home and tried to hurt us. If we don't find him soon, he'll end up doing it to more people. He's hurt so many people already."

Bayley pecked her fiance on the cheek. "I know, and I'm so proud of you for working so hard. How about just a quick power nap? It'll help you think clearer."

"I'm fine, Bayley," Flair turned her head to face her future wife. "I love you and I'm thankful you're concerned about me, but I'm a big girl, ok? I can run on a few hours of sleep with no problem. I did it all the time before we met."

"And you saved me from my ex," Bayley recalled with a small smile. "I remember that day. I was really scared at first, but then you bought me ice cream after my surgery. I think I fell in love with you after that."

Charlotte chuckled. "You remember that, huh? You were so loopy on painkillers you kept giggling and telling me about your favorite cartoons. Now I can see it wasn't the medicine making you crazy."

"I'm only crazy about one thing," Bayley placed a soft kiss to Flair's neck. "My superhero, always standing up for me and beating up the bad guys," she pecked the soft, smooth skin again. "You should wear a cape to work, Charlie."

Flair chuckled under her breath. "Don't call me 'Charlie', Bay," she shuttered slightly as Bayley's lips met her neck again and her hands cupped each of her breasts over her black t-shirt. "Ok, babe, I _definitely_ don't have time for that. I gotta figure out what kind of blade the killer used and what his pattern is," she moaned softly when Bayley nipped lightly at the side of her neck while her hands started to unfasten her belt. "It's serrated, but I can't figure out what kind of blade would have the cut marks like this."

Bayley, baiting a groan from Flair, pulled her fiance's black tee over her chest, exposing her bare breasts to the chill air in the room. "Surgical, I think," Bayley kissed Flair on her cheek. "Little teeth, almost as thin as a regular blade. Chainsaw would've left bigger pieces missing and a hacksaw would've left a sloppier gash. Surgical makes the most sense with how clean it is, even though it's serrated."

As Bayley pinched her nipples between her fingers, Charlotte realized her fiance may be on to something. "Hold on..." Flair made eye contact with her wife-to-be again. "How do you know that?"

Bayley stopped pleasuring Flair and shrugged. "I dunno. I've been binging 'Criminal Minds' the last couple days. They had a case like this one in one of the episodes. The killer was cutting people's heads off and they figured out it was a surgical saw based on the cut. It makes the most sense to me."

"Oh my God," Flair suddenly sprang to her feet. "And there's only one place you can get a saw like that in this town."

"The hospital," Bayley said.

Flair nodded her head. "Yeah, that's right. Holy shit, Bay, you're a genius."

Bayley blushed. "I mean, I have a tv show to thank."

Flair reconnected her lips with Bayley's, surprising the young Latina and making her giggle into the kiss.

"We better tell Corey when he gets back," Flair leaned in for a deeper, tongue heavy smooch. "As for now..."

"Sex!?" Bayley exclaimed with wide eyes.

Flair snickered and, with a little help from Bayley, removed the rest of her top and kissed her fiance again.

* * *

Graves ventured across the street to a fast food burger joint for some lunch for himself and the two women back in Flair's hotel suite. The case he and Flair had been working was already high stakes, but, now with Dashwood slain at the hands of possibly the same killer, it brought a new wave of urgency.

Graves stood in line and ordered a few burgers, fries and a couple diet sodas. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, but figured it was Flair or Bayley wondering what was taking him so long to get back.

"Detective," Graves turned just before he left the exit. Calling his title was the widow of the late Andrade Almas, Zelina.

"Ms Vega," Graves greeted the woman with a friendly grin. "Good to see you again. Everything ok today?"

Zelina nodded her head. "Yes, I am doing ok. It's still hard to go on without my Andrade, but I know you'll bring his killer to justice soon."

"We're doing all we can, ma'am," Graves finally reached for his phone when he could feel it going off again. "It's just going to take some time. I know it's been a while," Graves saw he was getting texts from Charlotte, but it wasn't about lunch. Apparently, Bayley had pointed something out about the crime scene pictures and it might lead to something. "Uh, I'm sorry to cut this so short, ma'am, but I have to get back. My partner says she might have found something."

Zelina's eyes widened. "Really? Does it tell you who might have hurt my husband?"

Graves shrugged and turned for the exit again. "I don't know, but I have to go to check it out."

Zelina tugged gently on Corey's arm, making him pause. "Thank you for your hard work, detective," Zelina stood on her toes and lightly pecked the corner of Graves's lips. "I know you'll do right by my Andrade."

Graves finally left the restaurant with Zelina's kiss overtaking the majority of his thoughts.

* * *

With Bayley keeping herself busy on Flair's computer, Graves and the aforementioned injured detective returned to present their new found information to Captain Reigns.

Reigns studied the photos over, looking for the same signs Bayley had caught. "Your wife caught this?" Reigns asked Flair without looking up.

Flair nodded her head. "Yes, sir. We were going over notes and Bayley pointed out the cut pattern."

"My biggest concern is why forensics hadn't caught this," Graves added. "I mean, this is huge. We now have a list of people we can question about the murders."

"But we don't have a POI yet or a motive," Reigns pointed out. "Just a possible murder weapon, but not much else."

"But it is something to look further into, right? It's the only thing we got, but we have to do something," Flair sighed. "We owe it to Emma to at least give it a shot. Chances are that it's nothing, but we have to figure something out fast before someone else ends up dead."

Before Reigns could respond again, the door to the main office slammed open. Detective Ambrose, fire in his strut, marched up to Reigns's office and barged in.

"Captain... Uh, Corey, Flair," Ambrose began. "I want in on the Slayer case."

"We already have Graves and Flair working on it," Reigns said.

Ambrose shook his head. "And it's been over a month and they ain't found shit. No offense guys. I know I can shake a few things loose, but you just gotta let me give it a shot."

Reigns shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Dean. I already have it assigned to someone. I can't take it away from them without reasonable cause."

"Flair's hurt," Ambrose pointed out.

"Fuck you, Ambrose, I make a better cop than you in my sleep," Flair shot back.

The bickering between Flair and Ambrose took off a million miles an hour. Graves shook his head, deciding it was better to keep out of it.

"Enough!" Reigns finally roared, silencing his officers. "I'm not going to play school principal and let you two bitch and moan about who does what. Flair, go back to your hotel and relax. Graves, go check out the lead at the hospital. I don't want any goddamn argument."

Flair stepped in. "Sir, I'm full capable-"

"Do I make myself clear?" Roman rumbled.

Flair shut her mouth and, with a scowl, nodded her head slowly and left the office. Graves followed close behind his partner.

"What about me?" Ambrose asked his boss. "I can't let this guy get away after what he did to Em. You gotta let me do something."

Reigns shook his head. "I got nothin' for you, Dean. Just finish up the IA paperwork you got piling up on your desk."

Ambrose stayed rooted to his spot for a second, expecting Reigns to add something else. After a few seconds, and a cocked eyebrow from his superior, Ambrose scoffed, cursed under his breath and headed out of the office.

Of all the things that bothered him in life, the inability to control everything that meant a lot to him was what drove Ambrose crazy. He lost Becky, he was losing his grip with Alexa and now his partner and best friend was gone. Why did Dashwood of all people have to be the one to die? What if she had gone to investigate the house while Dean stayed back? Would Dean have died instead or would have the killer stayed away and not done anything? It drove Ambrose mad to think about it, but he couldn't help himself.

Ambrose hit the button in the elevator for the basement with a clenched fist that rocked the lift. When he arrived at his destination, Ambrose found the head of fiery orange hair that he was seeking coming back from lunch.

"Dean, what are-"

Ambrose threw his arms around Becky's shoulders. He buried his face in Becky's hair, trying to conceal his tears and wanting to hold on to Becky's scent if this was the last time she let him hold her.

Becky didn't push away. She gently laid her hands on Dean's back and soothingly rubbed her hands up and down his back.

"I love you so much," Ambrose sputtered through his tears. "Life is so fucking fragile. I don't know why I didn't tell you sooner."

Becky hushed Ambrose lightly. "It's ok, lad. I forgive you, ok? Everythin' will be ok."

"Do you love me back?" Ambrose asked, hoping his words didn't come of too much like a beg even though it more or less was.

"Of course," Becky whispered, adding a light kiss to Dean's cheek. "Just relax. I've got you."

Ambrose clung to his ex tighter as if she was going to disappear if he let go. His eyes continued to well with tears with the fear and anger of not knowing what was going to happen next.


	18. Chapter 18

The condensation collecting on the dark glass of Ambrose's beer was a distraction from the greater topic at hand. Dean thumbed away the sprinkles of water to savor the awkward atmosphere he was surrounded in. He and Becky, with Becky on her lunch break, made a quick stop to a local diner to talk. Becky didn't start the conversation like Dean wanted her to, which meant he was going to have to think of what to say first.

Becky picked at her salad with her plastic fork. Dean found it ironically laughable that she called herself a vegetarian, because Becky loved medium rare cheeseburgers as much as he did.

"I love you," Dean finally managed to utter. He looked across the table for any form of confirmation from the redhead he was sure was going to be the next girl he married. The smallest of smiles stretched across Becky's lips. Dean figured that must've been a good sign, given the circumstances.

"I love you," Becky replied, taking her eyes off her lunch to reconnect her gaze with Ambrose's.

Dean sighed. "Look... I'm so sorry I fucked everything up. I should've taken better care of Renee. If I knew about the baby, I would've helped her. I swear, Beck. We would be having lunch with a half-stripper, half-cop blonde haired blue eyed puke machine if I knew. But I didn't. That's why we're here now."

Becky nodded, but she didn't respond to Dean.

Dean continued. "Becky, what we have is too good to throw away. I love you too much to give it up because of a mistake I made in the past with a different woman. I love waking up to a snoring, frizzled hair Irishwoman every morning. I love having dinner with you. I love kissing you at work whenever I get the chance." Dean paused momentarily to chuckle. "I love the little sounds you make when you go down on me. Hell, I love the sounds you make when _I_ go down on _you_. I'm not ready to let any of that go. These last few weeks have been absolute hell. I haven't slept longer than a few hours because I'm so obsessed with winning you back." Dean slid his hands across the table to cover Becky's hands with his. "Please, Rebecca. Please. I'm begging you to reconsider giving up on me. I love you so much, Becky. Please?"

Becky dropped her fork into her lunch. "Dean, I don't want you to think I don't love you. I do. So much. But our affair resulted in the death of a child. I can't just let that go, lad. It's not something I can live with easily."

"What if I talk to her?" Dean asked. "What if I sat down and gave her the apology she deserves?"

Becky nodded. "That would be a good place to start."

"Ok..." Dean tried baiting more information from Becky with his pronunciation of the word, but she wasn't budging. "Then what?"

Becky sighed. "We go from there. Ok? Apologize to her first. We will talk after. I promise."

"She's gonna want to kill me when she sees me, but I'll do it," Dean shook his head and chuckled dryly. "I'm such an emotional fucking wreck right now, I might break down in front of Renee. And I don't want her to see me so fucking soft."

Becky secured a hand around Dean's wrist. "I believe you can do it, lad," she said. "I love you and I will talk to you after."

Dean nodded. "Love you too, Beck."

Becky finished her lunch. Since she was due back to the lab soon, Becky kissed Dean on the cheek goodbye and wished him good luck. Dean waited until Becky's car was out of sight before stepping down into his own and heading for Suplex City.

* * *

With Flair spending time with her fiance back at her hotel, Graves made the journey to Stamford General Hospital. Since the time JJ was born, Graves wasn't there to speak to Paige and try to figure out what happened to a recently deceased member of the Stamford population.

Graves flashed his badge to the ER receptionist. He asked to speak to the chief surgeon, thinking starting his way at the top and working his way down to figure out who had access to surgical supplies was the best stroke of genius he had in over a month.

"Hi, detective?" A woman, probably not much younger than Graves himself, greeted him with a soft smile and gentle handshake. "Dr Britt Baker, head of surgery. What can I do for you?"

"Just wanted to ask a few questions, if that's alright with you?" Graves asked. "I know you're a busy woman and can't give too much of your time away. But any amount could be helpful."

Dr Baker nodded her head. "I will give you my best, detective. Let's talk in my office."

Graves followed Dr Baker through a few short hallways. Leading Graves through a locked door that required a key card, Dr Baker finally reached her office and let him inside.

"Ok, detective," Dr Baker took her seat behind her desk. "How can I help you?"

"Who has access to the medical supplies around here?" Graves questioned. "Not the medicine, per se, but more so the scalpels, medical saws and things like that."

"All surgeons have access to the room," Dr Baker explained. "It's a storage room on the third floor. Surgeons, security and the custodial staff have access to the room. I take inventory every morning, so I know everything, as of a few hours ago, is where it's supposed to be."

"Is it possible to keep track of who scans into the key card lock each time?" Graves asked.

Dr Baker nodded her head. "Of course. Everyone has a serial number encrypted in their name tag. If you don't have the proper authorization to enter the room, you won't be let in. If you do, it'll record your scan and allow you access."

"May I see the records?" Graves asked.

Dr Baker typed away at her desktop computer's keyboard. "Sure, just give it a moment to load." Dr Baker typed a few more keys. The clicking was irritating Graves a little, but he forced himself not to say anything. "There we go." Dr Baker turned the monitor around to face Graves.

The most recent person to enter the room was Britt Baker herself. Reading backwards from the list, nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. Each name had the occupation next to it. Everyone was either a surgeon or security.

"Can you do yesterday?" Graves asked.

Dr Baker typed at her keyboard again. The page refreshed and listed the names of people from the day before that had access to the supply room.

Graves's eyes locked on the very bottom of the list. The last person to enter the room, according to the computer, was a custodian.

"Andrade Almas?" Graves said out loud.

Dr Baker nodded her head solemnly. "He was a good man. I can't imagine what his wife is going through right now."

"Andrade died over a month ago," Graves stated. "So how did he access the supply room yesterday?"

Dr Baker furrowed her brow and turned the monitor back around to face herself. "What the hell?" She muttered. "That has to be a systems glitch. He couldn't have."

"Try July ninth," Graves asked; That was the night of Eva Marie's murder. It was a longshot, but Graves was willing to try anything at this point.

Dr Baker typed away again. She gasped. "He checked in three times that day. Once in the morning, then twice later that night."

"I need the last six weeks printed off," Graves instructed. "Can you do that?"

Dr Baker nodded her head. "It'll take a minute, but I can do that for you."

"Good," Graves fished his phone from his pocket to dial Flair's number. Finally, he caught something that might give him a break in the case.

* * *

Ambrose, for the absolute first time in his life, was laying in bed with Becky under his arm and not in any state of undress. After lunch, Lynch was called by her supervisor, Seth Rollins, and told she didn't need to come in to finish up her work since someone else did it for her. Becky tried to argue, but Seth assured her she would be paid for the rest of the day regardless. So, in celebration of Becky's cut short Wednesday, the newly reformed couple gathered at Dean's home and settled in bed. They mostly talked about everything that had happened in the last year since they'd been together. Dean broke down and mourned the loss of his long time friend in Emma. Becky held him close and let him shed as many tears as he was able. Dean hated being emotional like that in front of people he was trying to be tough for, but Becky was the strongest woman he knew so Dean didn't feel as weak around her.

Dean stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. So much was on his mind recently, and he had no idea how to even begin to handle any of it. Alexa's growing affection, Becky coming back into his life, having to face Renee again at some point, Emma's death and the ongoing Stamford Slayer case that just refused to be solved.

"Dean?" Becky asked with a low tone. Only then did Ambrose realize he was breathing heavy.

The vision around Dean's line of sight started to tunnel. He was prone to panic attacks since he was young, but hadn't had an attack in a long time. Seeing himself on the brink of the first one in what had to have been fifteen years scared the life out of him.

Ambrose squeezed Becky's shoulder and kissed her forehead. "I'm fine, Beck. Shit is just fucked up right now."

Becky nuzzled her face in Dean's chest. "It's going to be ok, Dean. I love you."

"I love you too," Ambrose chuckled dryly. He could feel himself tear up, which was the last thing he wanted to be doing in front of Becky. "Fuck, I can't imagine what Paige is going through. Em's parents, babe. Her mom is going to be destroyed when she hears about it... And it's my fault."

"Don't blame yerself, lad," Becky lifted herself on her elbow to face Dean. "You couldn't have known that someone was waitin' fer you. You did yer job the right way and something went wrong. It's not your fault."

Dean inhaled a shaky breath. "I could've stayed by the car," he said. "I could be the one laying on a slab in the morgue right now. Emma didn't deserve to be killed by some fucking coward. None of these people do. I swear to God, when I find that fucker-"

"Shhh," Becky lightly scratched her nails under Dean's shirt. "Don't get yerself worked up, Dean. I know you'll catch him, but you can't let yerself get angry. Use that energy on finding him and bringing him to justice. You can't let yer emotions control you and make you do something you might regret."

"You're probably right, Beck," Ambrose admitted. "Fuck... I'm gonna miss her."

Becky softly kissed the underside of Dean's chin. "I know, lad. I know."

Dean took Becky into his arms again. Her fruity shampoo infiltrated his senses as he went to kiss her on the top of her head again. Dean knew, from now on, he wasn't going to take the things he loved for granted. That's why while Becky was in his arms, he was going to savor every second.

* * *

"Graves, this is huge!" Flair exclaimed, overlooking the time stamps for the security checkpoints. "Andrade had access to the supply room, which means he is a top suspect in this fuckin' case!"

"But he's dead now," Graves pointed out. "Which means someone else is using his ID badge to keep the murders going. Obviously he had an accomplice."

"Figure Andrade wanted the killings to stop after Liv but his buddy didn't so he got taken out?" Flair asked.

Graves shrugged. "It's fucking brutal, but that makes sense. Or Andrade had no idea it was going on and someone else was using his badge to get in and out without another thought."

"Did you check security cameras?" Flair asked.

"They only keep footage for a few hours before the system resets," Graves explained. "Which is very fuckin' convenient for our killer."

Flair checked over her shoulder for her fiance. Bayley was sitting on the hotel bed, eating a room service cheeseburger and watching cartoons.

"What's our next move?" Flair asked.

"Since our top POI is dead, I have no fuckin' idea," Graves said. "Talk to a few of the other janitors to see if they have anything. Maybe the security guards noticed him acting shifty before he died. It's worth a shot at least. This shit is huge, but we have nothing else to go on."

Flair nodded her head. "I'll make notes and see if I catch anything on the time stamps here. You head back to the hospital and see what you can find."

Graves phone started ringing. "Yeah, I can do that," wrestling his phone from his pocket, Graves saw it was Zelina Vega giving him a call. "Hello?" He answered.

"Detective! Can you come to my house soon?" Zelina replied.

"Is everything ok?" Graves asked.

"Yes, I just need your help here," Zelina said. "It's not urgent, but I need you."

"I'll be there soon, ok? Sit tight," Graves hung up his phone. "Andrade's widow," he informed Flair. "She says she needs my help with something at her house."

"You sure it's a good idea to be cuddling up to a dead guy's wife?" Flair asked. "I mean, it'll be a little fuckin' awkward if we find out Andrade is the killer and you've been fuckin' his wife since he died."

"I'm not fucking anybody," Graves assured. "She's a grieving widow and I just want her to know that we are here for her in her time of need."

"Ok," Flair said with a hint of doubt in her voice. "Just take it easy, ok? Reigns told me to make sure you aren't up to anything stupid."

"I'm not," Graves insisted. "I'll be back after I talk to the staff again, alright? Bye, Bayley!"

"Bye, Corey!" Bayley yelled back, but kept her eyes on the tv.

"Call me if you need anything," Flair called after her partner. "I'm losing my mind being cooped up in here all the time."

Graves nodded his head and left the hotel room after one more goodbye to both women.

* * *

The sweet smile that belonged to Zelina Vega greeted Detective Graves when he arrived to her home. The atmosphere surrounding home seemed to have lifted since Graves' last visit there, which was of course Andrade's untimely passing.

"You said you needed me?" Graves stepped into the living room of the small home. In the dining room, which was viewable from his perspective, the table was set with two fully cooked meals waiting for what Graves assumed was himself and Zelina. "Ma'am, you said you needed my help." He reminded, though not in a harsh tone.

"I do. I made too much _fajitas_ for just me," Zelina led Graves to the dining room. "I guess I'm not used to cooking a meal for one yet."

"Ms Vega-"

"Zelina."

"Sorry. Zelina," Graves cleared his throat. "I shouldn't be having dinner with you."

"It's not dinner. It's a thank you," Zelina pulled out Graves' chair and sat him down. "I know you are working very hard to bring justice to my Andrade. Some food will help you think. My special recipe will help you think clearer too."

Graves couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Then I guess I have to eat. We have found some new information about your husband's case."

Zelina's face lit up. "You do? _Excellente!_ What have you found out?"

"Someone has been using your husband's hospital badge to steal medical supplies," Graves said. He took a hungry bite into Zelina's home cooking. Though he wanted to appear as professional as possible, he couldn't help a moan of delight from escaping his lips when the savory delicacies triggered his taste buds. "My theory is that someone he's working with stole his badge. Do you know anyone that Andrade worked with?"

Zelina thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Not that I can think of, detective. Andrade got along with everyone. I couldn't imagine someone else using his ID to steal from the hospital."

"Neither can I," Graves half muttered, taking another bite into his impromptu dinner. "This is delicious, by the way. The shrimp is incredible."

"Thank you," Zelina said with a toothy grin.

The two ate in silence for the remainder of the meal. Graves' mind was trying to work out the kinks of what he was going to ask the select people at the hospital. The most part of his attention was unfortunately on Zelina. Her black top dipped low enough on her chest to leave little to the imagination, but still showed class. She was dressed up awfully nice for a semi-formal dinner with a police detective. Of course, Corey wasn't going to openly judge her wardrobe choice, nor how many times she paused from eating to dab at an apparent stain on her left breast with a napkin that would make her entire chest shake with each pat.

With dinner finished, Zelina collected the dishes and brought them to the sink.

"Dinner was excellent, Zelina," Graves checked his watch. It was barely past five, which gave him more than enough time to talk to the people that needed to be questioned. "Do you..." As his focus turned back to the widow, his words died on his lips when he realized she was biting her lip and gradually unbuttoning her top. "What... What are you doing?" He asked, trying like hell to not peek at Zelina's bra.

Zelina crossed the room. She cupped Corey's cheeks with her hands and leaned in for a long, slow, tongue laden kiss to the lips. Every fiber of Graves' conscience told him to push her away and leave the premises like things hadn't just taken a dramatic veer off a cliff. Instead, however, his chapped hands, with the guidance of Zelina's, slid further up her torso and cupped her more than sizable breasts.

"What... Why?" Graves sputtered, trying to understand the situation.

"Shhh," Zelina pushed her index finger against Corey's lips. "You've been very good to me in my time of need. I want to reward you, _hombre."_

"I'm a cop," Graves stated. "It's my job to help those in need."

Zelina fully opened her top and allowed the garment to crumple on the floor behind her. Her silky smooth mocha skin seemed to glisten in the early evening sunlight that spilled into the kitchen from outside.

"And I am a woman. It is my job to please you," Zelina teased in a breathy tone.

Graves, feeling like he was stuck in a hypnotic trance, allowed Zelina to take him by the hand and lead him to what he assumed was her bedroom.

* * *

The tiny voice in the back of Graves' mind screamed at him to stop what he was doing for the sake of Zelina's well being. But he never heard that voice over the course of the next series of events.

Corey's back hit the queen sized mattress. He never had the chance to lift his head off the bedspread before his belt was undone and Zelina's head was bobbing in his lap. She had full, ruby red lips and Graves took note of that the first time he met her. He didn't think they'd feel as good as they did at this moment, but he wasn't going to complain.

The next thing he knew, Zelina was straddling his waist, bouncing hard enough to produce a light smacking sound with her thighs each time she settled back onto his waist. Her impossibly perfect breasts heaved and bounced with every little move she made and every ragged breath she inhaled. She moaned under her breath in Spanish and, though Graves didn't understand most of it, he thought she must've really enjoyed this as much as he did.

Finally, with a cry of his name, Zelina came down from her climax just as Corey reached his. She giggled breathlessly before getting off him and laying beside him on the comforter.

"Thank you," Zelina giggled.

"You too," Graves said, staring at the ceiling with more confusion filling his head than ever before. Showing up to Zelina's house was a risky idea enough on its own, but having sex with her. That was a situation he was never going to be able to talk himself out of.

Graves sat up. "Uh... I hate to do this, but I gotta get back to work, ok?" He slid off the bed and started collecting his clothes from the floor around the room. "Uh... I guess call me if you need anything."

"Like more of that?" Zelina teased with a wink.

Graves smiled awkwardly. "Sure, if you want. I... I'll see you later."

Graves redressed as he ventured out of the house. He buttoned up his shirt as he slipped into his car. He finally made eye contact with himself in the rear view mirror. His stare wasn't as hard as it used to be. Maybe that was a good thing, but what he just did was definitely not a good thing.

"Fuck," Graves muttered to himself as he backed out of the driveway.


	19. Chapter 19

To say Suplex City was the last place Ambrose wanted to be would be an understatement. He pulled up the ever-popular strip club around noon; He picked that time because he knew Renee always took her first break around that time.

The reluctant detective placed a dark pair of sunglasses on his face. He checked himself in the rearview mirror of his car just to make sure he was somewhat presentable, even in the more rundown part of town. Renee knew he was coming, but something told him she'd do anything to pick him apart at this point in their relationship.

At noon exactly, Renee stepped out of the club. The troublesome blonde shuffled off the front step and over towards the side of the bar. She fished a box of menthol cigarettes from her pocket and lit one up. She blew a puff of smoke and leaned against the building.

Dean took note of everything his ex did. She only smoked when she was stressed or nervous about something. That something most likely agreeing to meet with an ex she hated more than anything. Renee often talked about hating her job at Suplex City, but Dean wouldn't be surprised if he was at the top of her 'shit list' now.

With a deep breath, Ambrose slid out of his car and made his way over to his former wife. Renee heard the crunch his footsteps made on the gravel outside immediately and turned to face him.

Dean nodded his head stiffly. "Hey," he said, no confidence in his usual braggadocious voice.

Renee scoffed. _"That's_ how you're going to talk to me? I think I owe more than a half-assed 'hey', Ambrose."

Dean sighed. "You're right. I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you since I never really did that when we were together."

Renee blew a puff of smoke from her ruby red lips. "Why? Your new chick won't put out unless you talk to me?"

Dean shook his head. "No. I owe you an apology for the way I handled things after we separated. There's a lot of better ways I should've handled that. I... didn't know about the baby. If I had, I would've stuck around and tried to at least be civil. I wouldn't have asked for you back, but I would've tried to be a decent dad to the kid."

Renee chuckled, her eyes starting to fill with tears. "Having a baby would finally make you treat me like a person?"

"I didn't hurt you or anything," Ambrose stated. "I was caught up in work and-"

"Refused to touch me unless you were drunk," Renee chuckled again and inhaled another drag. "I don't think we had sex sober for an entire year. You and your bullshit and bringing it home with you and expecting me to just put up with it. I hated who you were turning into."

"I know and I'm sorry things happened the way they did," Ambrose took a step closer to Renee. "I wish I handled things better. You deserved better than what I did."

Renee nodded. "I did and still do. My friends who are too busy with their families take better care of me than you did."

"You do," Ambrose sighed. "I don't want us to scream at each other every time we happen to be in the same place. I want us to try and at least get along. We don't need to be best friends, but I want to get along with you again."

Renee flicked her cigarette bud away. "What does fire crotch have that I don't? Hmm? Does she suck better dick that me? Is her twat tighter than mine? What is it? Because I don't get it."

"She understands the business and gets why I can't sleep some nights," Dean explained.

Renee looked into the distance. "I'm sorry too," she replied, shaking her head slightly. "I should've been more patient with you. I... should be holding a baby right now, but I was too caught up in my own bullshit to think things through. You know how badly I want to be a mom, Dean."

Dean nodded. "You will. You're not even close to passing your prime. I'm tellin' you, just flash yourself at a grocery store instead of here and you'll lour someone in."

Renee snickered. "Shut up with your stupid humor bullshit, Dean. It didn't work then and it sure as shit won't work now."

Dean outstretched his arms. "What do you say? Can we be civil and talk things out instead of trying to kill each other?"

Renee stared at her husband for a moment, but then nodded and accepted his hug. She nestled her face in his shoulder like she used to, which Dean thought was a little inappropriate but he wasn't going to push her off at this moment.

Renee cleared her throat, taking a step back to break the hug. "I haven't gotten laid since you moved out. I didn't mean to do that."

Dean shrugged. "No harm done."

Renee dropped her head. "Do you think you can invite me over for dinner one night? I wanna talk things out with Becky too. I feel I owe her an apology for all the shit I said."

"Sure, no problem," Dean answered. "I'll text you a night when we're free and you're not shakin' what your momma gave ya."

Renee grinned. "Thanks. I'm glad you apologized for once in your life. I'm sure it's tearing away at your soul."

"Oh, like a chainsaw," Dean chuckled, making Renee laugh too. "But I'm glad I did. I'll talk to you soon, Rey."

Renee nodded and gave her ex-husband one more hug. Dean offered a friendly peck to the cheek as they pulled apart. Renee smiled one more time, then ventured back to her place of employment.

Feeling a great weight lift off his shoulders, Dean got back into his car and tried to mentally psych himself up for the mountain of paperwork he had yet to still finish.

* * *

Detective Graves was shaken up about what occurred between him and Zelina Vega the day before. She hadn't gotten in touch with him since he ungracefully hurried from her house in an attempt to chase the guilt away. Sleeping with a grieving widow was probably one of the biggest mistakes Graves had made in his entire career.

At the moment, he was huddled by his desk with his head in his hands. He hadn't slept since yesterday and he was running on his fifth cup of coffee. He had work to do on finding the identity of the Stamford Slayer, but it was hard to think for the time being.

Two patrolmen stepped inside the office cubicles. Graves hardly paid them any attention as they approached Captain Reigns and spoke with him. He needed to get his head back into finding more clues and figuring this shit out.

"Detective Graves?" Officer Dream addressed the half-aware Detective.

Graves picked his head up. "Yes, officer?"

"I need you to come with me," Dream instructed.

Graves looked between the two officers. "Why?"

"We're afraid we're going to have to arrest you, sir," the other officer, who Graves didn't know, said.

Graves furrowed. "Wait... what are you talking about?"

"Please be cooperative," Dream rounded Graves' desk with a pair of handcuffs in his hands. "You're a main suspect in the Stamford Slayer case and are having charges pressed against you for sexual assault."

Graves complied at stood up to be handcuffed by the officer. While the other cop read him his rights, Graves searched frantically around the room for an answer.

Captain Reigns hurried over to the scene. "There has to be some kind of mistake, officers."

"Detective Graves," Officer Dream said. "You're under arrest for conspiracy surround the Stamford Slayer killings and conspiracy to commit sexual assault. We'll take you downstairs for questioning."

Graves, his legs as heavy as lead, was led to the elevators with the attention being drawn to him by everyone they passed through the hallway.


End file.
